•NRLF 


Rihrv  Verse 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 


200*1   >THI800H 


T 


The  Hoosier  Book 


ei  . 

nei  ,oo«r  t~( 


Containing  Poems  in  Dialect 

•\-*Mv.o'J  jjiHM-al/j-tasoa   JI^X' 

By 

James  Whitcomb  Riley 


f/ 


,     ,  > 

Collected  and  Arranged  by 

Hewitt  Hanson  Howland 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT 

1887,  1891,  1893, 1894, 1896,  1897,  1900,  1902 

1903,  1904,  1907,  1909, 1913 

JAMES  WHITCOMB  RILEY 

COPYRIGHT  1916 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


HrnorjjfrfW 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


PRESS    OF 

BRAUNWORTH    &    CO. 

BOOK    MANUFACTUREBt 

BROOKLYN,     N.     Y. 


TO 
JOHNTY 


784916 


OT 
TrtHOI 


Dfli  bsd  ,biow 
sfanow  ,2iodsi  ^r 


*to  noianbxo  orfj  T..»  ?,ifij  } 
-130  srlj—  a-isrh  Ji  io  >bi;l  srfi  1370  bsajsalti^ib  10 

INTRODUCTION 

When  James  Whitcomb  Riley  was  a  very  small  boy,  too 
young  to  read,  he  fell  in  love  at  first  sight  with  a  book,  and 
like  all  intense  lovers  he  at  once  desired  to  possess  the 
object  of  his  affection.  By  thrift  and  careful  hoarding  he 
got  together  pennies  equal  to  the  price,  and  the  little  red 
and  gold  "poetry  book"  fell  into  his  eager,  outstretched, 
freckled  hands. 

Now  he  did  not  love  this  early  treasure  for  what  it  con 
tained,  but  for  its  look,  for  the  feel  of  it  in  his  hand,  as  he 
afterward  said.  These  same  emotions  were  stirred  when 
in  1911  he  was  presented  with  the  first  copy  of  The  Lock 
erbie  Book.  "I  like  its  look  and  the  feel  of  it,"  he  said,  and 
thereupon  repeated  the  story  of  his  first  literary  love. 

So  it  came  about  that,  at  the  proper  time,  he  suggested 
and  even  urged  a  companion  volume,  to  contain  only  dialect 
verse,  and  with  that  spontaneous  genius  for  nomenclature 
which  was  so  remarkably  his,  instantly  christened  the  new 
collection  :  The  Hoosier  Book  —  The  Hoosier  Book  of 
Rilcy  Verse.  This  was  but  a  short  time  after  his  return  to 
Indianapolis  from  a  winter  in  the  South,  and  only  a  few 
months  before  he  departed  on  that  last  great  journey  to  the 
land  where  it  is  always  afternoon. 

His  never  imposed  but  always  unerring  taste,  his  gentle 
criticism,  his  tactful  suggestions,  all  so  helpful  in  the  prep 
aration  of  The  Lockerbie  Book,  have  been  wanting  in  the 
selection  of  poems  for  this  volume,  but  the  poems  them- 


selves,  every  line,  every  word,  had  the  final  touch  of  his 
careful  hand. 

Whether  he  is  smiling  over  my  labors,  wondering  at  the 
inclusion  of  this  or  the  exclusion  of  that,  pleased  over  the 
order  here  or  displeased  over  the  lack  of  it  there — the  cer 
tainty  of  one  thing  cheers  me :  he  would  like  the  look  of 
The  Hoosier  Book  and  the  feel  of  it  in  his  hand. 

Mr.  Riley's  verse  written  in  the  native  tongue  of  his 
native  state  is  the  verse  that  brought  him  first  into  public 
regard,  is  the  verse  by  which  he  is  most  widely  known,  and 
on  which  his  claim  to  immortality  will  unquestionably  rest. 

Finer  stanzas  he  may  have  written  in  the  English  of  Eliz 
abeth,  but  in  the  idiom  of  the  Hoosier  he  has  sung  the 

songs  of  a  people. 

• 


n 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 


;»OOH    >13.I?/ 


rfT 


r£  THE    :S 

HOOSIER  BOOK 


NEGHBORLY  POEMS 


My  Philosofy 

I  AIN'T,  ner  don't  p'tend  to  be, 
Much  posted  on  philosofy; 
But  thare  is  times,  when  all  alone, 
I  work  out  idees  of  my  own. 
And  of  these  same  thare  is  a  few 
I'd  like  to  jest  refer  to  you — 
Pervidin'  that  you  don't  object 
To  listen  clos't  and  rickollect. 

I  allus  argy  that  a  man 
Who  does  about  the  best  he  can 
Is  plenty  good  enugh  to  suit 
This  lower  mundane  institute — 
No  matter  ef  his  daily  walk 
Is  subject  fer  his  neghbor's  talk, 
And  critic-minds  of  ev'ry  whim 
Jest  all  git  up  and  go  fer  him ! 
i 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

I  knovved  a  feller  onc't  that  had 
The  yeller-janders  mighty  bad, — 
And  each  and  ev'ry  friend  he'd  meet 
Would  stop  and  give  him  some  receet 
Fer  cuorin'  of  'em.    But  he'd  say 
He  kindo'  thought  they'd  go  away 
Without  no  medicin',  and  boast 
That  he'd  git  well  without  one  doste. 

He  kep'  a-yellerin*  on — and  they 
Perdictin'  that  he'd  die  some  day 
Before  he  knowed  it!    Tuck  his  bed, 
The  feller  did,  and  lost  his  head, 
And  wundered  in  his  mind  a  spell — 
Then  rallied,  and,  at  last,  got  well ; 
But  ev'ry  friend  that  said  he'd  die 
Went  back  on  him  eternally ! 

It's  natchurl  enugh,  I  guess, 

When  some  gits  more  and  some  gits  less, 

Fer  them-uns  on  the  slimmest  side 

To  claim  it  ain't  a  fare  divide ; 

And  I've  knowed  some  to  lay  and  wait, 

And  git  up  soon,  and  set  up  late, 

To  ketch  some  feller  they  could  hate 

Fer  goin'  at  a  faster  gait. 

The  signs  is  bad  when  folks  commence 
A-findin'  fault  with  Providence, 
And  balkin'  'cause  the  earth  don't  shake 
At  ev'ry  prancin'  step  they  take. 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

No  man  is  grate  tel  he  can  see 
How  less  than  little  he  would  be 
Ef  stripped  to  self,  and  stark  and  bare 
He  hung  his  sign  out  anywhare. 

My  doctern  is  to  lay  aside 

Contensions,  and  be  satisfied : 

Jest  do  your  best,  and  praise  er  blame 

That  f oilers  that,  counts  jest  the  same. 

I've  allus  noticed  grate  success 

Is  mixed  with  troubles,  more  or  less, 

And  it's  the  man  who  does  the  best 

That  gits  more  kicks  than  all  the  rest. 


\>m)"Y-v>YY  vAT  ^ 

2  The  Clover 

i-*n3  '-.!»)  MBS  ^kifrj-aUO'flUD  Q '  ' 
OME  sings  of  the  lilly,  and  daisy,  and  rose, 
And  the  pansies  and  pinks  that  the  Summertime  throws 
In  the  green  grassy  lap  of  the  medder  that  lays 
Blinkin'  up  at  the  skyes  through  the  sunshiney  days ; 
But  what  is  the  lilly  and  all  of  the  rest 
Of  the  flowers,  to  a  man  with  a  hart  in  his  brest 
That  was  dipped  brimmin'  full  of  the  honey  and  dew 
Of  the  sweet  clover-blossoms  his  babyhood  knew? 

I  never  set  eyes  on  a  clover-field  now, 

Er  fool  round  a  stable,  er  climb  in  the  mow, 

But  my  childhood  comes  back  jest  as  clear  and  as  plane 

As  the  smell  of  the  clover  I'm  sniffin'  again; 


THE   IIOOSIER   BOOK 

And  I  wundcr  away  in  a  bare-footed  dream, 
\Vharc  I  tangle  my  toes  in  the  blossoms  that  gleam 
With  the  dew  of  the  dawn  of  the  morning  of  love 
Ere  it  wept  ore  the  graves  that  I'm  weepin'  above. 

And  so  I  love  clover — it  seems  like  a  part 

Of  the  sacerdest  sorrows  and  joys  of  my  hart; 

And  wharever  it  blossoms,  oh,  thare  let  me  bow 

And  thank  the  good  God  as  I'm  thankin'  Him  now ; 

And  I  pray  to  Him  still  fer  the  stren'th  when  I  die, 

To  go  out  in  the  clover  and  tell  it  good-bye, 

And  lovin'ly  nestle  my  face  in  its  bloom 

While  my  soul  slips  away  on  a  breth  of  pur  fume. 


The  Tree-Toad 

CUR'OUS-LIKE,"  said  the  tree-toad, 


«  » 


've  twittered  fer  rain  all  day; 
And  I  got  up  soon, 
And  hollered  tel  noon — 
But  the  sun,  hit  blazed  away, 

Tel  I  jest  clumb  down  in  a  crawfish-hole, 
Weary  at  hart,  and  sick  at  soul ! 

'Dozed  away  fer  an  hour, 
And  I  tackled  the  thing  ag'in : 
And  I  sung,  and  sung, 
Tel  I  knowed  my  lung 
Was  jest  about  give  in; 

And  then,  thinks  I,  ef  hit  don't  rain  now, 
They's  nothin*  in  singin',  anyhow  I 
4 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

'Onc't  in  a  while  some  farmer 
Would  come  a-drivin*  past; 

And  he'd  hear  my  cry, 

And  stop  and  sigh — 
Tel  I  jest  laid  back,  at  last, 

And  I  hollered  rain  tel  I  thought  my  th'oat 

Would  bust  wide  open  at  ever'  note ! 

"But  I  fetched  her !— O  /  fetched  her  !— 
'Cause  a  little  while  ago, 
As  I  kindo'  set, 
With  one  eye  shet, 
And  a-singin'  soft  and  low, 

A  voice  drapped  down  on  my  fevered  brain, 
A-sayin',— 'Ef  you'll  jest  hush  I'll  rain!'" 


4  The  Old  Swimmin'-Hole 

OH !  the  old  swimmin'-hole !  whare  the  crick  so  still  and 
deep 

Looked  like  a  baby-river  that  was  laying  half  asleep, 
And  the  gurgle  of  the  worter  round  the  drift  jest  below 
Sounded  like  the  laugh  of  something  we  onc't  ust  to  know 
Before  we  could  remember  anything  but  the  eyes 
Of  the  angels  lookin*  out  as  we  left  Paradise; 
But  the  merry  days  of  youth  is  beyond  our  controle, 
And  it's  hard  to  part  ferever  with  the  old  swimmin'-hole. 

Oh!  the  old  swimmin'-hole!    In  the  happy  days  of  yore, 
When  I  ust  to  lean  above  it  on  the  old  sickamore, 
Oh !  it  showed  me  a  face  in  its  warm  sunny  tide 
That  gazed  back  at  me  so  gay  and  glorified, 

5 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

It  made  me  love  myself,  as  I  leaped  to  caress 

My  shadder  smilin'  up  at  me  with  sich  tenderness. 

But  them  days  is  past  and  gone,  and  old  Time's  tuck  his  toll 

From  the  old  man  come  back  to  the  old  swimmin'-hole. 

Oh  1  the  old  swimmin'-hole !     In  the  long,  lazy  days 
When  the  humdrum  of  school  made  so  many  run-a-ways, 
How  plesant  was  the  jurney  down  the  old  dusty  lane, 
Whare  the  tracks  of  our  bare  feet  was  all  printed  so  plane 
You  could  tell  by  the  dent  of  the  heel  and  the  sole 
They  was  lots  o'  fun  on  hands  at  the  old  swimmin'-hole. 
But  the  lost  joys  is  past!     Let  your  tears  in  sorrow  roll 
Like  the  rain  that  ust  to  dapple  up  the  old  swimmin'-hole. 

Thare  the  bullrushes  growed,  and  the  cattails  so  tall, 
And  the  sunshine  and  shadder  fell  over  it  all ; 
And  it  mottled  the  worter  with  amber  and  gold 
Tel  the  glad  lilies  rocked  in  the  ripples  that  rolled; 
And  the  snake-feeder's  four  gauzy  wings  fluttered  by 
Like  the  ghost  of  a  daisy  dropped  out  of  the  sky, 
Or  a  wownded  apple-blossom  in  the  breeze's  controle 
As  it  cut  acrost  some  orchurd  to'rds  the  old  swimmin'-hole. 

Oh !  the  old  swimmin'-hole !    When  I  last  saw  the  place, 
The  scenes  was  all  changed,  like  the  change  in  my  face; 
The  bridge  of  the  railroad  now  crosses  the  spot 
Whare  the  old  divin'-log  lays  sunk  and  fergot. 
And  I  stray  down  the  banks  whare  the  trees  ust  to  be — - 
,But  never  again  will  theyr  shade  shelter  me! 
And  I  wish  in  my  sorrow  I  could  strip  to  the  soul, 
And  dive  off  in  my  grave  like  the  old  swimmin'-hole. 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

5  How  It  Happened 

GOT  to  thin  kin'  of  her — both  her  parunts  dead  and 

gone — 

And  all  her  sisters  married  off,  and  none  but  her  and  John 
A-livin'  all  alone  thare  in  that  lonesome  sorto'  way, 
And  him  a  blame  old  bachelor,  confirmder  ev'ry  day ! 
I'd  knowed  'em  all,  from  childern,  and  theyr  daddy  from 

the  time 

He  settled  in  the  neghborhood,  and  hadn't  ary  a  dime 
Er  dollar,  when  he  married,  f  er  to  start  housekeepin'  on ! — 
So  I  got  to  thinkin'  of  her — both  her  parunts  dead  and  gone ! 

I  got  to  thinkin'  of  her ;  and  a-wundern  what  she  done 
That  all  her  sisters  kep'  a-gittin'  married,  one  by  one, 
And  her  without  no  chances — and  the  best  girl  of  the  pack — 
A'  old  maid,  with  her  hands,  you  might  say,  tied  behind  her 

back! 

And  Mother,  too,  afore  she  died, — she  ust  to  jest  take  on, 
When  none  of  'em  wuz  left,  you  know,  but  Evaline  and 

John, 
And  jest  declare  to  goodness  'at  the  young  men  must  be 

bline 
To  not  see  what  a  wife  they'd  git  ef  they  got  Evaline  I 

I  got  to  thinkin'  of  her:   In  my  great  affliction  she 
Wuz  sich  a  comfert  to  us,  and  so  kind  and  neghborly, — 
She'd  come,  and  leave  her  housework,  fer  to  he'p  out  little 

Jane, 
And  talk  of  her  own  mother  'at  she'd  never  see  again — 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

They'd  sometimes  cry  together — though,  fer  the  most  part, 

she 

Would  have  the  child  so  rickonciled  and  happy-like  'at  we 
Felt  lonesomer'n  ever  when  she'd  putt  her  bonnet  on 
And  say  she'd  railly  haf  to  be  a-gittin'  back  to  John ! 

I  got  to  thinkin'  of  her,  as  I  say, — and  more  and  more 
I'd  think  of  her  dependence,  and  the  burdens  'at  she  bore, — 
Her  parunts  both  a-bein'  dead,  and  all  her  sisters  gone 
And  married  off,  and  her  a-livin*  thare  alone  with  John — • 
You  might  say  jest  a-toilin'  and  a-slavin'  out  her  life 
Fer  a  man  'at  hadn't  pride  enugh  to  git  hisse'f  a  wife — 
'Less  some  one  married  Evaline  and  packed  her  off  some 

day!— 
So  I  got  to  thinkin'  of  her — and — It  happened  thataway. 


6     Thoughts  fer  the  Discuraged  Farmer 
fbn&  ofii'Jr/H  Jild  ,won>3!  r;ov  ,ti'j{  sov/  rn^'  10  orion  rtsff 

T^HE  summer  winds  is  sniffin'  round  the  bloomin'  locus' 

trees ; 

And  the  clover  in  the  pastur  is  a  big  day  fer  the  bees, 
And  they  been  a-swiggin'  honey,  above  board  and  on  the 

sly, 

Tel  they  stutter  in  theyr  buzzin'  and  stagger  as  they  fly. 
The  flicker  on  the  fence-rail  'pears  to  jest  spit  on  his  wings 
And  roll  up  his  feathers,  by  the  sassy  way  he  sings ; 
And  the  hoss-fly  is  a-whettin'-up  his  forelegs  fer  biz, 
And  the  off-mare  is  a-switchin'  all  of  her  tale  they  is. 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

You  can  hear  the  blackbirds  jawin'  as  they  f oiler  up  the 

plow — 
Oh,  theyr  bound  to  git  theyr  brekfast,  and  theyr  not  a-carin' 

how; 
So  they  quarrel  in  the   furries,  and  they  quarrel  on  the 

wing — 

But  theyr  peaceabler  in  pot-pies  than  any  other  thing : 
And  it's  when  I  git  my  shotgun  drawed  up  in  stiddy  rest, 
She's  as  full  of  tribbelation  as  a  yeller-jacket's  nest; 
And  a  few  shots  before  dinner,  when  the  sun's  a-shinin' 

right, 

Seems  to  kindo'-sorto'  sharpen  up  a  feller's  appetite ! 

.nov 

They's  been  a  heap  o'  rain,  but  the  sun's  out  to-day, 

And  the  clouds  of  the  wet  spell  is  all  cleared  away, 

And  the  woods  is  all  the  greener,  and  the  grass  is  greener 

still; 

It  may  rain  again  to-morry,  but  I  don't  think  it  will." 
Some  says  the  crops  is  ruined,  and  the  corn's  drownded 

out, 

And  propha-sy  the  wheat  will  be  a  failure,  without  doubt ; 
But  the  kind  Providence  that  has  never  failed  us  yet, 
Will  be  on  hands  onc't  more  at  the  'leventh  hour,  I  bet ! 

Does  the  medder-lark  complane,  as  he  swims  high  and  dry 
Through  the  waves  of  the  wind  and  the  blue  of  the  sky? 
Does  the  quail  set  up  and  whissel  in  a  disappinted  way, 
Er  hang  his  head  in  silunce,  and  sorrow  all  the  day? 
Is  the  chipmuck's  health  a-failin'? — Does  he  walk,  er  does 

he  run? 
Don't  the  buzzards  ooze  around  up  thare  jest  like  they've 

allus  done? 

9 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Is  they  anything  the  matter  with  the  rooster's  lungs  er 

voice? 
Ort  a  mortul  be  complanin*  when  dumb  animals  rejoice? 

Then  let  us,  one  and  all,  be  contentud  with  our  lot; 
The  June  is  here  this  mornin',  and  the  sun  is  shining  hot. 
Oh !  let  us  fill  our  harts  up  with  the  glory  of  the  day, 
And  banish  ev'ry  doubt  and  care  and  sorrow  fur  away! 
Whatever  be  our  station,  with  Providence  fer  guide, 
Sich  fine  circumstances  ort  to  make  us  satisfied ; 
Fer  the  world  is  full  of  roses,  and  the  roses  full  of  dew, 
And  the  dew  is  full  of  heavenly  love  that  drips  fer  me  and 
you. 


A  Summer's  Day 

THE  Summer's  put  the  idy  in 
My  head  that  I'm  a  boy  ag'in ; 
And  all  around's  so  bright  and  gay 
I  want  to  put  my  team  away, 
And  jest  git  out  whare  I  can  lay 
And  soak  my  hide  full  of  the  day! 
But  work  is  work,  and  must  be  done — 
Yit,  as  I  work,  I  have  my  fun, 
Jest"  f  ancyin'  these  f  urries  here 
Is  childhood's  paths  onc't  more  so  dear : 
And  so  I  walk  through  medder-lands, 

And  country  lanes,  and  swampy  trails 
Whare  long  bullrushes  bresh  my  hands ; 
And,  tilted  on  the  ridered  rails 


10 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Of  deadnin'  fences,  "Old  Bob  White" 
Whissels  his  name  in  high  delight, 
And  whirrs  away.    I  wunder  still, 
Whichever  way  a  boy's  feet  will — 
Whare  trees  has  fell,  with  tangled  tops 

Whare  dead  leaves  shakes,  I  stop  f  er  breth, 
Heerin'  the  acorn  as  it  drops — 

H'istin'  my  chin  up  still  as  deth, 
And  watchin'  clos't,  with  upturned  eyes, 
The  tree  where  Mr.  Squirrel  tries 
To  hide  hisse'f  above  the  limb, 
But  lets  his  own  tale  tell  on  him. 
I  wunder  on  in  deeper  glooms — 

Git  hungry,  hearin'  female  cries 
From  old  farm-houses,  whare  perfumes 

Of  harvest  dinners  seems  to  rise 
And  ta'nt  a  feller,  hart  and  brane, 
With  memories  he  can't  explane. 

m  a^bis  -HI*  Tic  qhb  teat,  bnA 

I  wunder  through  the  underbresh, 

Whare  pig-tracks,  pintin'  to'rds  the  crick, 
Is  picked  and  printed  in  the  fresh 

Black  bottom-lands,  like  wimmern  pick 
Theyr  pie-crusts  with  a  fork,  some  way, 
When  bakin'  fer  camp-meetin"  day. 
I  wunder  on  and  on  and  on, 
Tel  my  gray  hair  and  beard  is  gone, 
And  ev'ry  wrinkle  on  my  brow 
Is  rubbed  clean  out  and  shaddered  now 
With  curls  as  brown  and  fare  and  fine 
As  tenderls  of  the  wild  grape-vine 

.olmr  HV//  LnA 
II 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

That  ust  to  climb  the  highest  tree 
To  keep  the  ripest  ones  fer  me. 
I  wunder  still,  and  here  I  am 
Wadin*  the  ford  below  the  dam — 
The  worter  chucklin'  round  my  knee 

At  hornet-welt  and  bramble-scratch, 
And  me  a-slippin'  'crost  to  see 

Ef  Tyner's  plums  is  ripe,  and  size 
The  old  man's  wortermelon-patch, 

With  juicy  mouth  and  drouthy  eyes. 
Then,  after  sich  a.  day  of  mirth 
And  happiness  as  worlds  is  wurth — 

So  tired  that  Heaven  seems  nigh  about, — 
The  sweetest  tiredness  on  earth 

Is  to  git  home  and  flatten  out — 
So  tired  you  can't  lay  flat  enugh, 
And  sorto'  wish  that  you  could  spred 
Out  like  molasses  on  the  bed, 
And  jest  drip  off  the  aidges  in 
The  dreams  that  never  comes  ag'in. 

^vbha^irlt .ajp'ot  'niJfiiq.^jbcit-^rq  vtmtW 

8  A  Hymb  of  Faith 

OTHOU  that  doth  all  things  devise 
j     And  fashon  fer  the  best, 
He'p  us  who  sees  with  mortul  eyes 
To  overlook  the  rest. 

They's  times,  of  course,  we  grope  in  doubt, 

And  in  afflictions  sore; 
So  knock  the  louder,  Lord,  without, 

And  we'll  unlock  the  door. 

12 


THE  HOOSIER   BOOK 

Make  us  to  feel,  when  times  looks  bad 

And  tears  in  pitty  melts, 
Thou  wast  the  only  he'p  we  had 

When  they  was  nothin'  else. 

Death  comes  alike  to  ev'ry  man 
That  ever  was  horned  on  earth ; 

Then  let  us  do  the  best  we  can 
To  live  fer  all  life's  wurth. 

Ef  storms  and  tempusts  dred  to  see 
Makes  black  the  heavens  ore, 

They  done  the  same  in  Galilee 
Two  thousand  years  before. 

But  after  all,  the  golden  sun 
Poured  out  its  floods  on  them 

That  watched  and  waited  fer  the  One 
Then  borned  in  Bethlyham. 

Also,  the  star  of  holy  writ 
Made  noonday  of  the  night, 

Whilse  other  stars  that  looked  at  it 
Was  envious  with  delight. 

The  sages  then  in  wtirship  bowed, 

r-  1-  e 

r  rom  ev  ry  clime  so  fare ; 

O,  sinner,  think  of  that  glad  crowd 
That  congergated  thare ! 

They  was  content  to  fall  in  ranks 
With  One  that  knowed  the  way 

From  good  old  Jurden's  stormy  banks 
Clean  up  to  Jedgmunt  Day. 
13 


THE   HOOSIER  BOOK 

No  matter,  then,  how  all  is  mixed 

In  our  near-sighted  eyes, 
All  things  is  fer  the  best,  and  fixed 

Out  straight  in  Paradise. 

Then  take  things  as  God  sends  'em  here, 

And,  ef  we  live  er  die, 
Be  more  and  more  contenteder, 

Without  a-astin*  why. 

O,  Thou  that  doth  all  things  devise 

And  fashon  fer  the  best, 
He'p  us  who  sees  with  mortul  eyes 

To  overlook  the  rest. 


p  Wortermelon  Time 

OLD  wortermelon  time  is  a-comin'  round  ag'in, 
And  they  ain't  no  man  a-livin*  any  tickleder'n  me, 
Fer  the  way  I  hanker  after  wortermelons  is  a  sin — 
Which  is  the  why  and  wharefore,  as  you  can  plainly  see. 

« f>'»y/i"!f?  <:};[,- t!i-/r  ni  nfjffi  soiiKS  9fIT 
Oh !  it's  in  the  sandy  soil  wortermelons  does  the  best, 

And  it's  thare  they'll  lay  and  waller  in  the  sunshine  and 

the  dew 
Tel   they  wear   all   the   green   streaks   clean   off   of   theyr 

breast ; 

And  you  bet  I  ain't  a-findin'  any  fault  with  them ;  air 
you? 

-.yen  inrrrnigh^T /ot  *\n  nr,y!j 
14 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

They  ain't  no  better  thing  in  the  vegetable  line ;' 

And   they   don't   need    much    'tendin',    as    ev'ry    farmer 
knows ; 

And  when  theyr  ripe  and  ready  fer  to  pluck  from  the  vine, 
I  want  to  say  to  you  theyr  the  best  fruit  that  grows. 

It's  some  likes  the  yeller-core,  and  some  likes  the  red, 
And  it's  some  says  "The  Little  Galiforny"  is  the  best; 

But  the  sweetest  slice  of  all  I  ever  wedged  in  my  head, 
Is  the  old  "Edingburg  Mounting-sprout,"  of  the  West. 

You  don't  want  no  punkins  nigh  your  wortermelon  vines — 
'Cause,  some-way-another,  they'll  spile  your  melons, 
shore ; — 

I've  seed  'em  taste  like  punkins,  from  the  core  to  the  rines, 
Which  may  be  a  fact  you  have  heerd  of  before. 

But  your  melons  that's  raised  right  and  'tended  to  with 

care, 
You  can  walk  around  amongst  'em  with  a  parent's  pride 

and  joy, 
And  thump  'em  on  the  heads  with  as  fatherly  a  air 

As  ef  each  one  of  them  was  your  little  girl  er  boy. 
frrifisu-)-jj  Jif^ia  silt  bnz  /iiHljsl-s  wob  bfiR  ^nb  julj  bnA 
I  joy  in  my  hart  jest  to  hear  that  rippin'  sound 

When  you  split  one  down  the  back  and  jolt  the  halves  in 

two, 

And  the  friends  you  love  the  best  is  gethered  all  around — 
And  you  says  unto  your  sweethart,  "Oh,  here's  the  core 
fer  you  !" 


THE   HOOSIER    BOOK 

And  I  like  to  slice  'em  up  in  big  pieces  fer  'em  all, 

Espeshally  the  childern,  and  watch  theyr  high  delight 

As  one  by  one  the  rines  with  theyr  pink  notches  falls, 

And  they  holler  fer  some  more,  with  unquenched  appe 
tite. 

Boys  takes  to  it  natchurl,  and  I  like  to  see  'em  eat — 

A  slice  of  wortermelon's  like  a  frenchharp  in  theyr  hands, 
And  when  they  "saw"  it  through  theyr  mouth  sich  music 

can't  be  beat — 

'Cause  it's  music  both  the  sperit  and  the  stummick  under 
stands. 

Oh,  they's  more  in  wortermelons   than   the  purty-colored 

meat, 
And   the  overflowin'    sweetness   of   the   wortcr    squshed 

betwixt 

The  up'ard  and  the  down'ard  motions  of  a  feller's  teeth, 
And  it's  the  taste  of  ripe  old  age  and  juicy  childhood 
mixed. 

Fer  I  never  taste  a  melon  but  my  thoughts  flies  away 
To  the  summertime  of  youth ;  and  again  I  see  the  dawn, 

And  the  fadin'  afternoon  of  the  long  summer  day, 
And  the  dusk  and  dew  a-fallin',  and  the  night  a-cotnin' 
on. 

And  thare's  the  corn  around  us,  and  the  lispin'  leaves  and 

trees, 

And  the  stars  a-peekin'  down  on  us  as  still  as  silver  mice, 
And  us  boys  in  the  wortermelons  on  our  hands  and  knees, 
And  the  new-moon  hangin'  ore  us  like  a  yeller-cored 
slice. 

16 


THE   HOOSIKR   BOOK 

Oh !  it's  wortermelon  time  is  a-comin'  round  ag'in, 
And  they  ain't  no  man  a-livin'  any  tickleder'n  me, 

Per  the  way  I  hanker  after  wortermelons  is  a  sin — 

Which  is  the  why  and  wharefore,  as  you  can  plainly  see. 

•  if!  bus.  no  -ei.-l- 


tmo7  3f!.t  lo  fcbaaoi  e>ilJ  }Q  lo?.?,rn  v^rn  ,-^auri 
/o     When  the  Frost  Is  on  the  Punkin 

WHEN  the  frost  is  on  the  punkin  and  the  fodder's  in 
the  shock, 

And  you  hear  the  kyouck  and  gobble  of  the  struttin'  turkey- 
cock, 

And  the  clackin'  of  the  guineys,  and  the  cluckin'  of  the 
hens, 

And  the  rooster's  hallylooyer  as  he  tiptoes  on  the  fence ; 

O,  it's  then's  the  times  a  feller  is  a-feelin'  at  his  best, 

With  the  risin'  sun  to  greet  him  from  a  night  of  peaceful 
rest, 

As  he  leaves  the  house,  bare-headed,  and  goes  out  to  feed 
the  stock, 

When  the  frost  is  on  the  punkin  and  the  fodder's  in  the 
shock. 

They's  something  kindo*  harty-like  about  the  atmusfere 
When  the  heat  of  summer's  over  and  the  coolin*   fall  is 

here — 
Of  course  we  miss  the  flowers,  and  the  blossums  on  the 

trees, 
And  the  mumble  of  the  hummin'-birds  and  buzzin*  of  the 

bees; 

17 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

But  the  air's  so  appetizin' ;  and  the  landscape  through  the 

haze 

Of  a  crisp  and  sunny  morning  of  the  airly  autumn  days 
Is  a  pictur'  that  no  painter  has  the  colorin'  to  mock — 
When  the  frost  is  on  the  punkin  and  the  fodder's  in  the 

shock. 

The  husky,  rusty  russel  of  the  tossels  of  the  corn, 

And  the  raspin'  of  the  tangled  leaves,  as  golden  as  the 

morn; 

The  stubble  in  the  furries — kindo'  lonesome-like,  but  still 
A-preachin'  sermuns  to  us  of  the  barns  they  growed  to  fill ; 
The  strawstack  in  the  medder,  and  the  reaper  in  the  shed ; 
The  hosses  in  t.heyr  stalls  below — the  clover  overhead ! — 
O,  it  sets  my  hart  a-clickin*  like  the  tickin'  of  a  clock, 
When  the  frost  is  on  the  punkin  and  the  fodder's  in  the 

shock ! 

Then  your  apples  all  is  getherd,  and  the  ones  a  feller  keeps 
Is  poured  around  the  celler-floor  in  red  and  yeller  heaps ; 
And  your  cider-makin'  's  over,  and  your  wimmern-folks  is 

through 
With  their  mince  and  apple-butter,  and  theyr   souse  and 

saussage,  too !     .    .    . 

I  don't  know  how  to  tell  it — but  ef  sich  a  thing  could  be 
As  the  Angels  wantin'  boardin',  and  they'd  call  around  on 

me — 

I'd  want  to  'commodate  'em — all  the  whole-indurin*  flock — 
When  the  frost  is  on  the  punkin  and  the  fodder's  in  the 

shock ! 


18 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


//       On  the  Death  of  Little  Mahala 
Ash  era  ft 

"TITTLE  Haly!  Little  Haty!"  cheeps  the  robin  in  the 

LJL  tree  ; 

"Little  Haly  !"  sighs  the  clover,  "Little  Haly  !"  moans  the 

bee; 

"Little  Haly  !  Little  Haly  !"  calls  the  killdeer  at  twilight  ; 
And  the  katydids  and  crickets  hollers  "Haly  !"  all  the  night. 

»:/-  •-:'  ,"j  bn/ 

The  sunflowers  and  the  hollyhawks  droops  over  the  garden 

fence  ; 
The  old  path  down  the  garden  walks  still  holds  her  foot 

prints'  dents  ; 
And  the  well-sweep's  swingin'  bucket  seems  to  wait  fer  her 

to  come 
And  start  it  on  its  wortery  errant  down  the  old  bee-gum. 

The  beehives  all  is  quiet  ;  and  the  little  Jersey  steer, 
When  any  one  comes  nigh  it,   acts  so  lonesome-like  and 

queer  ; 

And  the  little  Banty  chickens  kindo'  cutters  faint  and  low, 
Like  the  hand  that  now  was  f  eedin'  'em  was  one  they  didn't 

know. 
.;  bnirbd  •.}}•>]  w\ol  o<-  Loorfblrfb  ^m  }oo!imiJ  I  z  A    f 

They's  sorrow  in  the  wavin'  leaves  of  all  the  apple-trees; 
And    sorrow    in    the   harvest-sheaves,    and    sorrow   in   the 

breeze  ; 

And  sorrow  in  the  twitter  of  the  swallers  'round  the  shed  ; 
And  all  the  song  her  redbird  sings  is  "Little  Haly's  dead  !" 
a  ^Ij  }(>  jeom  r»rfj  'ni>Inidt-i;  fonA 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

The  medder  'pears  to  miss  her,  and  the  pathway  through 

the  grass, 
Whare  the  dewdrops  ust  to  kiss  her  little  bare  feet  as  she 

passed  ; 
And  the  old  pin  in  the  gate-post  seems  to  kindo'-sorto' 

doubt 
That  Haly's  little  sunburnt  hands'll  ever  pull  it  out. 

Did  her  father  er  her  mother  ever  love  her  more'n  me, 
Er  her  sisters  er  her  brother  prize  her  love  more  tendurly? 
I  question  —  and  what  answer  ?  —  only  tears,  and  tears  alone, 
And  ev'ry  neghbor's  eyes  is  full  o'  tear-drops  as  my  own. 

"Little  Haly  !  Little  Haly  !"  cheeps  the  robin  in  the  tree  ; 
"Little  Haly!"  sighs  the  clover,  "Little  Haly!"  moans  the 

bee; 

"Little  Haly  !  Little  Haly  !"  calls  the  killdeer  at  twilight, 
And  the  katydids  and  crickets  hollers  "Haly  !"  all  the  night. 


12  The  Mulberry  Tree 

f'jibil)  vsnfj  rjno  a,sw  nr/  ^nliwj"}  si'.'n  v/oii  Jin't  biiJJii  o*i!  'j/i;.  L 

OIT'S  many's  the  scenes  which  is  dear  to  my  mind 
j    As  I  think  of  my  childhood  so  long  left  behind  ; 
The  home  of  my  birth,  with  its  old  puncheon-floor, 
And  the  bright  morning-glorys  that  growed  round  the  door  ; 
The  warped  clabboard  roof  whare  the  rain  it  run  off 
Into  streams  of  sweet  dreams  as  I  laid  in  the  loft, 
Countin'  all  of  the  joys  that  was  dearest  to  me, 
And  a-thinkin'  the  most  of  the  mulberry  tree. 

20 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  to-day  as  I  dream,  with  both  eyes  wide-awake, 
I  can  see  the  old  tree,  and  its  limbs  as  they  shake, 
And  the  long  purple  berries  that  rained  on  the  ground 
Whare  the  pastur'  was  bald  whare  we  trommpt  it  around. 
And  again,  peekin'  up  through  the  thick  leafy  shade, 
I  can  see  the  glad  smiles  of  the  friends  when  I  strayed 
With  my  little  bare  feet  from  my  own  mother's  knee 
To  foller  them  off  to  the  mulberry  tree. 

Leanin'  up  in  the  forks,  I  can  see  the  old  rail, 
And  the  boy  climbin'  up  it,  claw,  tooth,  and  toe-nail, 
And  in  fancy  can  hear,  as  he  spits  on  his  hands, 
The  ring  of  his  laugh  and  the  rip  of  his  pants. 
But  that  rail  led  to  glory,  as  certin  and  shore 
As  I'll  never  climb  thare  by  that  rout'  any  more — 
What  was  all  the  green  lauruls  of  Fame  unto  me, 
With  my  brows  in  the  boughs  of  the  mulberry  tree ! 


Then  it's  who  can  fergit  the  old  mulberry  tree 

That  he  knowed  in  the  days  when  his  thoughts  was  as  free 

As  the  flutterin*  wings  of  the  birds  that  flew  out 

Of  the  tall  wavin'  tops  as  the  boys  come  about? 

O,  a  crowd  of  my  memories,  laughin'  and  gay, 

Is  a-climbin'  the  fence  of  that  pastur'  to-day, 

And  a-pantin'  with  joy,  as  us  boys  ust  to  be, 

They  go  racin'  acrost  fer  the  mulberry  tree. 

;X«v7fi  biiTecv/  nua  srh  irjd  ,n9vr,-?rf  eln'oJ  ?3vo  ^m  borrm*  I 


rji  ;  o>tif  r>hob  %fl  lift  A 

—  bwJ 

ii'3*)cf  J'nbsrf  Ji  }y  .trio  l>y//cfft  -i973n  I)'g9^9  x«i  bnA 
ai 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


ij         To  My  Old  Friend,  William 
Leachman 

FER  forty  year  and  better  you  have  been  a  friend  to  me, 
Through  days  of  sore  afflictions  and  dire  adversity, 
You  allus  had  a  kind  word  of  counsul  to  impart, 
Which  was  like  a  healin'  'intrnent  to  the  sorrow  of  my  hart. 

When  I  burried  my  first  womern,  William  Leachman,  it  was 

you 

Had  the  only  consolation  that  I  could  listen  to — 
Fer   I  knowed  you  had  gone  through  it  and  had  rallied 

from  the  blow, 

And  when  you  said  I'd  do  the  same,  I  knowed  you'd  ort  to 

, 
know. 

But  that  time  I'll  long  remember;  how  I  wundered  here 

and  thare 

Through  the  settin'-room  and  kitchen,  and  out  in  the  open 

air — 
And   the    snowflakes    whirlin',    whirling    and    the    fields    a 

frozen  glare, 
And  the  neghbors'   sleds  and  wagons  congergatin'  ev'ry- 

whare. 

I  turned  my  eyes  to'rds  heaven,  but  the  sun  was  hid  away  ; 
I  turned  my  eyes  to'rds  earth  again,  but  all  was  cold  and 

gray  ; 
And  the  clock,  like  ice  a-crackin',  clickt  the  icy  hours  in 

two — 
And  my  eyes'd  never  thawed  out  ef  it  hadn't  been  f er  you ! 

22 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

We  set  thare  by  the  smoke-house — me  and  you  out  thare 

alone — 

Me  a-thinkin' — you  a-talkin'  in  a  soothin'  undertone — 
You  a-talkin' — me  a-thinkin'  of  the  summers  long  ago, 
And  a-writin'  "Marthy — Marthy"  with  my  finger  in  the 

snow ! 

William  Leachman,  I  can  see  you  jest  as  plane  as  I  could 

then  ; 
And  your  hand  is  on  my  shoulder,  and  you  rouse  me  up 

again ; 
.And  I  see  the  tears  a-drippin'  from  your  own  eyes,  as  you 

say: 
"Be  rickonciled  and  bear  it — we  but  linger  f  er  a  day !" 

At  the  last  Old  Settlers'  Meetin'  we  went  j'intly,  you  and 

me — 

Your  bosses  and  my  wragon,  as  you  wanted  it  to  be ; 
And  sence  I  can  remember,  from  the  time  we've  neghbored 

here, 
In   all   sich    friendly  actions   you   have   double-done   your 

sheer. 

It  was  better  than  the  meetin',  too,  that  nine-mile  talk  we 

had 
Of  the  times  when  we  first  settled  here  and  travel  was  so 

bad; 
When  we  had  to  go  on  boss-back,  and  sometimes  on 

"Shanks's  mare," 
And  "blaze"  a  road   fer   them  behind  that  had  to   travel 

thare. 


THE   HOOSIER    BOOK 

And  now  we  was  a-trottin'  'long  a  level  gravel  pike, 
In  a  big  two-boss  road-wagon,  jest  as  easy  as  you  like — 
Two  of  us  on  the  front  reat,  and  our  wimmern-folks  be 
hind, 
A-settin'  in  theyr  Winsor-cheers  in  perfect  peace  of  mind ! 

And  we  pinted   out  old   landmarks,   nearly   faded   out   of 

sight  :— 
Thare  they  ust  to  rob  the  stage-coach ;  thare  Gash  Morgan 

had  the  fight 
With  the  old  stag-deer  that  pronged  him — how  he  battled 

fer  his  life, 
And  lived  to  prove  the  story  by  the  handle  of  his  knife. 

Thare  the  first  griss-mill  was  put  up  in  the   Settlement, 

and  we 

Had  tuck  our  grindin'  to  it  in  the  Fall  of  Forty-three — 
When  we  tuck  our  rifles  with  us,  techin'  elbows  all  the  way, 
And  a-stickin'  right  together  ev'ry  minute,  night  and  day. 

Thare  ust  to  stand  the  tavern  that  they  called  the  "Trav 
elers'  Rest," 

And  thare,  beyent  the  covered  bridge,  "The  Counterfitters' 
Nest"— 

Whare  they  claimed  the  house  was  ha'nted — that  a  man  was 
murdered  thare, 

And  hurried  underneath  the  floor,  er  'round  the  place  some- 
whare. 

And  the  old   Plank-road  they  laid  along  in  Fifty-one  er 

two — 
You  know  we  talked  about  the  times  when  the  old  road 

was  new: 

24 


THE   HOOSIER    BOOK 

How  "Uncle  Sam"  put  down  that  road  and  never  taxed 

the  State 
Was  a  problem,  don't  you  rickollect,  we  couldn't  dimon- 

strate? 

,  MTI  oi  jlaPgi  Vji'ifo  odi  nariw  ••*%£*  b!o  srfa  2! 

Ways  was  devius,  William  Leachman,  that  me  and  you  has 

past; 

But  as  I  found  you  true  at  first,  I  find  you  true  at  last; 
And,  now  the  time's  a-comin'  mighty  nigh  our  jurney's  end, 
I  want  to  throw  wide  open  all  my  soul  to  you,  my  friend. 

With  the  stren'th  of  all  my  bein',  and  the  heat  of  hart  and 

brane, 

And  ev'ry  livin'  drop  of  blood  in  artery  and  vane, 
I  love  you  and  respect  you,  and  I  venerate  your  name, 
Fer  the  name  of  William  Leachman  and  True  Manhood's 

jest  the  same ! 


14  My  Fiddle 

MY  fiddle? — Well,  I  kindo*  keep  her  handy,  don't  you 
know! 
Though  I  ain't  so  much  inclined  to  tromp  the  strings  and 

switch  the  bow 

As  I  was  before  the  timber  of  my  elbows  got  so  dry, 
And  my  fingers  was  more  limber-like  and   caperish   and 
spry  ; 
Yit  I  can  plonk  and  plunk  and  plink, 

And  tune  her  up  and  play, 
And  jest  lean  back  and  laugh  and  wink 
At  ev'ry  rainy  day ! 
25 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

My  playin'  's  only  middlin' — tunes  I  picked  up  when  a  boy — 
The  kindo'-sorto'  fiddlin'  that  the  folks  calls  "cordaroy" ; 
"The  Old  Fat  Gal,"  and  "Rye-straw,"  and  "My  Sailyor's  on 

the  Sea," 

Is  the  old  cowtillions  I  "saw"  when  the  ch'ice  is  left  to  me ; 
And  so  I  plunk  and  plonk  and  plink, 

And  rosum-up  my  bow 
And  play  the  tunes  that  makes  you  think 
The  devil's  in  your  toe ! 

I  was  allus  a  romancin',  do-less  boy,  to  tell  the  truth, 
A-fiddlin'  and  a-dancin',  and  a-wastin'  of  my  youth, 
And  a-actin'  and  a-cuttin'-up  all  sorts  o'  silly  pranks 
That  wasn't  worth  a  botton  of  anybody's  thanks  I 
But  they  tell  me,  when  I  ust  to  plink 

And  plonk  and  plunk  and  play, 
My  music  seemed  to  have  the  kink 
O'  drivin'  cares  away ! 

That's  how  this  here  old  fiddle's  won  my  hart's  indurin* 

love ! 
From  the  strings  acrost  her  middle,  to  the  schreechin*  keys 

above — 
From  her  "apern,"  over  "bridge,"  and  to  the  ribbon  round 

her  throat, 

She's  a  wooin',  cooin*  pigeon,  singin*  "Love  me"  ev'ry  note ! 
And  so  I  pat  her  neck,  and  plink 

Her  strings  with  lovin'  hands, — • 
And,  list'nin'  clos't,  I  sometimes  think 
She  kindo*  understands ! 


26 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


/5  Erasmus  Wilson 

'T>  AS  WILSON,  I  respect  you,  'cause 

•*•  *•   You're  common,  like  you  allus  was 
Afore  you  went  to  town  and  s'prised 
The  world  by  gittin'  "reckonized," 
And  yit  perservin',  as  I  say, 
Your  common  hoss-sense  ev'ry  way  I 
And  when  that  name  o'  yourn  occurs 
On  hand-bills,  er  in  newspapers, 
Er  letters  writ  by  friends  'at  ast 
About  you,  same  as  in  the  past, 
And  neghbors  and  relations  'low 
You're  out  o*  the  tall  timber  now, 
And  "gittin'  thare"  about  as  spry's 
The  next  !  —  as  /  say,  when  my  eyes, 
Er  ears,  lights  on  your  name,  I  mind 
The  first  time  'at  I  come  to  find 
You  —  and  my  Rickollection  yells, 
Jest  jtibilunt  as  old  sleigh-bells  — 
"  'Ras  Wilson  !    Say  !    Hold  up  I  and  shake 
A  paw,  f  er  old  acquaintance  sake  !" 
My  Rickollection,  more'n  like, 
Hain't  overly  too  apt  to  strike 
The  what's-called  "cultchurd  public  eye" 
As  wisdom  of  the  deepest  dye,  — 
And  yit  my  Rickollection  makes 
So  blame  lots  fewer  bad  mistakes, 
Regardin'  human-natur*  and 
The  fellers  'at  I've  shook  theyr  hand, 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

Than  my  best  jedgenmnt's  done,  the  day 
I've  met  'em — 'fore  I  got  away, — 
'At— Well,  'Ras  Wilson,  let  me  grip 
Your  hand  in  warmest  pardnership ! 

iflliiiiio.^  b.rfii  ,rromfno3  31*110 '/    •*'  -*• 
Dad-burn  ye ! — Like  to  jest  haul  back 

A'  old  flat-hander,  j  est  che-whack ! 

And  take  you  'twixt  the  shoulders,  say, 

Sometime  you're  lookin'  t'other  way ! — 

Er,  maybe  whilse  you're  speakin'  to 

A  whole  blame  Court-house-full  o'  'thu- 

Syastic  friends,  I'd  like  to  jest 

Come  in-like  and  break  up  the  nest 

Afore  you  hatched  another  cheer, 

And  say :     "  'Ras,  /  can't  stand  hitched  here 

All  night — ner  wouldn't  ef  I  could ! — 

But  Little  Bethel  Neghborhood, 

You  ust  to  live  at,  's  sent  some  word 

Fer  you,  ef  ary  chance  occurred 

To  git  it  to  ye, — so  ef  you 

Kin  stop,  I'm  waitin*  f  er  ye  to  1" 

You're  common,  as  I  said  afore — 
You're  common,  yit  oncommon  more. — 
You  allus  kindo'  'pear,  to  me, 
What  all  mankind  had  ort  to  be — 
Jest  natchurl,  and  the  more  hurraws 
You  git,  the  less  you  know  the  cause — 
Like  as  ef  God  Hisse'f  stood  by 
Where  best  on  earth  hain't  half  knee-high, 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  seein'  like,  and  knowin'  He 
'S  the  Only  Grate  Man  really, 
You're  jest  content  to  size  your  hight 
With  any  feller  man's  in  sight. — 
And  even  then  they's  scrubs,  like  me, 
Feels  stuck-up,  in  your  company ! 

.  .h.TH-.i  ofLj'aJKf!  r>f!J  ?2£$r  Ji  an.'/o-'isCT 
Like  now : — I  want  to  go  with  you 

Plum  out  o'  town  a  mile  er  two 
Clean  past  the  Fair-ground  whare's  some  hint 
O'  pennyrile  er  peppermint, 
And  bottom-lands,  and  timber  thick 
Enugh  to  sorto*  shade  the  crick! 
I  want  to  see  you — want  to  set 
Down  somers,  whare  the  grass  hain't  wet, 
And  kindo*  breathe  you,  like  puore  air — 
And  taste  o'  your  tobacker  thare, 
And  talk  and  chaw !    Talk  o'  the  birds 
We've  knocked  with  cross-bows. — Afterwards 
Drop,  mayby,  into  some  dispute 
'Bout  "pomgrannies,"  er  cal'mus-root — 
And  how  they  growed,  and  whare? — on  tree 
Er  vine? — Who's  best  boy-memory! — 
And  wasn't  it  gingsang,  insted 
O'  cal'mus-root,  growed  like  you  said? — 
Er  how  to  tell  a  coon-track  from 
A  mussrat's  ; — er  how  milksick  come — 
Er  ef  cows  brung  it? — Er  why  now 
We  never  see  no  "muley"-cow — 
Ner  "frizzly"-chicken — ner  no  "clay- 
Bank"  mare — ner  nothin'  thataway ! — 

— idjiexfjo  v/{  lirnicn 
29 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  what's  come  o'  the  yellow-core 
Old  wortermelons  ? — hain't  no  more. — 
Tomattusus,  the  :;ame — all  red- 
Uns  nowadays — All  past  joys  fled — 
Each  and  all  jest  gone  k-whizz! 
Like  our  days  o'  childhood  is ! 

Dag-gone  it,  'Ras !  they  hain't  no  friend, 
It  'pears-like,  left  to  comperhend 
Sich  things  as  these  but  you,  and  see 
How  dratted  sweet  they  air  to  me ! 
But  you,  'at's  loved  'em  allus,  and 
Kin  sort  'em  out  and  understand 
'Em,  same  as  the  fine  books  you've  read, 
And  all  fine  thoughts  you've  writ,  er  said, 
Er  worked  out,  through  long  nights  o'  rain, 
And  doubts  and  fears,  and  hopes,  again, 
As  bright  as  morning  when  she  broke, — 
You  know  a  tear-drop  from  a  joke! 
And  so,  'Ras  Wilson,  stop  and  shake 
A  paw,  f er  old  acquaintance  sake ! 


16  My  Ruthers 

[Writ  durin*  State  Fair  at  Indanoplis,  whilse  visitin'  a 
Soninlaw  then  residin'  thare,  who  has  sence  got  back  to  the 
country  whare  he  says  a  man  that's  raised  there  ort  to 
a-stayed  in  the  first  place.] 

T   TELL  you  what  I'd  ruther  do— 
JL      Ef  I  only  had  my  ruthers, — 
I'd  ruther  work  when  I  wanted  to 
Than  be  bossed  round  by  others ; — 
30 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

I'd  rutlier  kindo'  git  the  swing 
O'  what  was  needed,  first,  I  jing! 
Afore  I  swet  at  anything!— 
Ef  I  only  had  my  ruthers ; — 
In  fact  I'd  aim  to  be  the  same 

With  all  men  as  my  brothers ; 
And  they'd  all  be  the  same  with  me— 
Ef  I  only  had  my  ruthers. 

I  wouldn't  likely  know  it  all — 
Ef  I  only  had  my  ruthers ; — 
I'd  know  some  sense,  and  some  baseball- 
Some  old  jokes,  and — some  others: 
I'd  know  some  politics,  and  'low 
Some  tarif -speeches  same  as  now, 
Then  go  hear  Nye  on  "Branes  and  How 
To  Detect  Theyr  Presence."      T'others, 
That  stayed  away,  I'd  let  'em  stay — 

All  my  dissentin'  brothers 
Could  chuse  as  shore  a  kill  er  cuore, 
Ef  I  only  had  my  ruthers. 

The  pore  'ud  git  theyr  dues  sometimes— 

Ef  I  only  had  my  ruthers, — 
And  be  paid  dollars  'stid  o'  dimes, 
Fer  childern,  wives  and  mothers : 
Theyr  boy  that  slaves ;  theyr  girl  that  sews- 
Fer  others— not  herself,  God  knows  !— 
The  grave's  her  only  change  of  clothes ! 
.     .     .     Ef  I  only  had  my  ruthers, 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

They'd  all  have  "stuff"  and  time  enugh 

To  answer  one-another's 
Appealin'  prayer  fer  "lovin'  care" — 

Ef  I  only  had  my  ruthers. 

They'd  be  few  folks  'ud  ast  fer  trust, 

Ef  I  only  had  my  ruthers, 
And  blame  few  business  men  to  bu'st 
Theyrselves,  er  harts  of  others : 

Big  Guns  that  come  here  durin'  Fair- 
Week  could  put  up  jest  anywhare, 
And  find  a  full-and-plenty  thare, 
Ef  I  only  had  my  ruthers  : 
The  rich  and  great  'ud  'sociate 
With  all  theyr  lowly  brothers, 
Feelin'  we  done  the  honorun — 
Ef  I  only  had  my  ruthers. 


17  A  Old  Playcd-Out  Song 

IT'S  the  curiousest  thing  in  creation, 
Whenever  I  hear  that  old  song 
"Do  They  Miss  Me  at  Home,"  I'm  so  bothered, 

My  life  seems  as  short  as  it's  long! — 
Fer  everything  'pears  like  adzackly 

It  'peared  in  the  years  past  and  gone, — 
When  I  started  out  sparkin',  at  twenty, 
And  had  my  first  neckercher  on ! 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Though  I'm  wrinkleder,  older  and  grayer 

Right  now  than  my  parents  was  then, 
You  strike  up  that  song  "Do  They  Miss  Me," 

And  I'm  jest  a  youngster  again! — 
I'm  a-standin'  back  thare  in  the  furries 

A-wishin'  fer  evening  to  come, 
And  a-whisperin'  over  and  over 

Them  words  "Do  They  Miss  Me  at  Home?" 

You  see,  Marthy  Ellen  she  sung  it 

The  first  time  I  heerd  it ;  and  so, 
As  she  was  my  very  first  sweethart, 

It  reminds  me  of  her,  don't  you  know  ;— 
How  her  face  ust  to  look,  in  the  twilight, 

As  I  tuck  her  to  Spellin' ;  and  she 
Kep*  a-hummin'  that  song  tel  I  ast  her, 

Pint-blank,  ef  she  ever  missed  me! 

I  can  shet  my  eyes  now,  as  you  sing  it, 

And  hear  her  low  answerin'  words ; 
And  then  the  glad  chirp  of  the  crickets, 

As  clear  as  the  twitter  of  birds ; 
And  the  dust  in  the  road  is  like  velvet, 

And  the  ragweed  and  fennel  and  grass 
Is  as  sweet  as  the  scent  of  the  lilies 

Of  Eden  of  old,  as  we  pass. 

—,;.[  >n->  t)r(j  r>:-jfr  .*';?.•,+•/?:.?">  fh/m  nl 
"Do  They  Miss  Me  at  Home?"    Sing  it  lower— 

And  softer — and  sweet  as  the  breeze 
That  powdered  our  path  with  the  snowy 

White  bloom  of  the  old  locus'-trees  I 


33 


THE   IIOOSIER   BOOK 

Let  the  whipperwills  he'p  you  to  sing  it, 
And  the  echoes  'way  over  the  hill, 

Tel  the  moon  boolges  out,  in  a  chorus 
Of  stars,  and  our  voices  is  still. 

But,  oh !   "They's  a  chord  in  the  music 

That's  missed  when  her  voice  is  away !" 
Though  I  listen  from  midnight  tel  morning, 

And  dawn  tel  the  dusk  of  the  day! 
And  I  grope  through  the  dark,  lookin'  up'ards 

And  on  through  the  heavenly  dome, 
With  my  longin'  soul  singin'  and  sobbin' 

The  words  "Do  They  Miss  Me  at  Home?" 


18  "Coon-Dog  Wess" 

"/^OON-DOG  WESS"— he  allus  went 
\^4     'Mongst  us  here  by  that-air  name. 

Moved  in  this-here  Settlement 

From  next  county — he  laid  claim, — 

Lived  down  in  the  bottoms — whare 

Ust  to  be  some  coons  in  thare ! — 

In  nigh  Clayton's,  next  the  crick, — 

Mind  old  Billy  ust  to  say 
Coons  in  thare  was  jest  that  thick, 

He'p  him  corn-plant  any  day ! — 
And,  in  rostneer-time,  be  then 
Aggin'  him  to  plant  again ! 
34 


THE   I-IOOSIER   BOOK 

Well, — In  Spring  o'  '67, 

This-here  "Coon-dog  Wess"  he  come — 
Fetchin'  'long  'bout  forty-'leven 

Ornriest-lookin'  hounds,  I  gum  ! 
Ever  niortul-man  laid  eyes 
On  sence  dawn  o'  Christian  skies ! 

Wife  come  traipsin'  at  the  rag- 
Tag-and-bobtail  of  the  crowd, 

Dogs  and  childern,  with  a  bag 
Corn-meal  and  some  side-meat, — Proud 

And  as  independunt — My! — 

Yit  a  mild  look  in  her  eye. 

Well— this  "Coon-dog  Wess"  he  jest 

Moved  in  that-air  little  pen 
Of  a  pole-shed,  aidgin'  west 

On  'The  Slues  o'  Death,"  called  then.— 
Otter-  and  mink-hunters  ust 
To  camp  thare  'fore  game  vam-moosd. 

Abul-bodied  man,— and  lots 

Call  fer  choppers — and  fer  hands 

To  git  cross-ties  out. — But  what's 
Work  to  sich  as  understands 

Ways  appinted  and  is  hence 

Under  special  providence? — 

"Coon-dog  W'ess's"  holts  was  hounds 
And  coon-huntin' ;  and  he  knowed 

His  own  range,  and  stayed  in  bounds 
And  left  work  fer  them  'at  showed 

Talents  fer  it — same  as  his 

Gifts  regardin'  coon-dogs  is. 
35 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Hounds  of  ev'ry  mungerl  breed 

Ever  whelped  on  earth  ! — Had  these 

Yeller  kind,  with  punkin-seed 
Marks  above  theyr  eyes — and  fleas 

Both  to  sell  and  keep! — Also 

These-here  lop-yeerd  hounds,  you  know. — 

Yes-and  brindle  hounds — and  long, 

Ga'nt  hounds,  with  them  eyes  they'  got 

So  blame  sorry,  it  seems  wrong, 
'Most,  to  kick  'em  as  to  not ! 

Man,  though,  wouldn't  dast,  I  guess, 

Kick  a  hound  fer  "Coon-dog  Wess" ! 

'Tended  to  his  own  affairs 

Stric'ly ; — made  no  brags,- — and  yit 

You  could  see  'at  them  hounds'  cares 
Teared  like  his, — and  he'd  'a'  fit 

Fer  'em,  same  as  wife  er  child ! — 

Them  facts  made  folks  rickonciled, 

Sorto',  fer  to  let  him  be 
And  not  pester  him.    And  then 

Word  begin  to  spread  'at  he 
Had  brung  in  as  high  as  ten 

Coon-pelts  in  one  night — and  yit 

Didn't  'pear  to  boast  of  it ! 

Neghborhood  made  some  complaints 
'Bout  them  plague-gone  hounds  at  night 

Howlin'  fit  to  wake  the  saints, 
Clean  from  dusk  tel  plum  daylight ! 

But  to  "Coon-dog  Wess"  them-thare 

Howls  was  "music  in  the  air" ! 
36 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Fetched  his  pelts  to  Gilson's  Store — 
Newt  he  shipped  fer  him,  and  said, 

Sence  he'd  cooned  thare,  he'd  shipped  more 
Than  three  hundred  pelts  !— "By  Ned ! 

Git  shet  of  my  store,"  Newt  says, 

"I'd  go  in  with  'Coon-dog  Wess* !" 

And  the  feller  'peared  to  be 

Makin'  best  and  most  he  could 
Of  his  rale  prospairity: — 

Bought  some  household  things — and  good; 
Likewise,  wagon-load  onc't  come 
From  wharever  he'd  moved  from. 

But  pore  feller's  huntin'-days, 

'Bout  them  times,  was  glidin*  past ! — 

Goes  out  onc't  one  night  and  stays! 

.     .     .     Neghbors  they  turned  out,  at  last, 

Headed  by  his  wife  and  one 

Half-starved  hound — and  search  begun. 

Boys  said,  that  blame  hound,  he  led 

Searchin*  party,  'bout  a  half 
Mile  ahead,  and  bellerin',  said, 

Worse'n  ary  yearlin'  calf  !— 
Tel,  at  last,  come  fur-off  sounds 

Like  the  howl  of  other  hounds. 

!  lw£;>T 

And-sir,  shore  enugh,  them  signs 
Fetched  'em — in  a*  hour  er  two — 

Whare  the  pack  was ; — and  they  finds 

"Coon-dog  Wess"  right  thare; — And  you 

Would  admitted  he  was  right 

Staying  as  he  had,  all  night! 
37 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

Facts  is,  cuttin'  down  a  tree, 
The  blame  thing  had  sorto'  fell 

In  a  twist-like — mercy  me! 
And  had  ketched  him.— Couldn't  tell, 

Wess  said,  how  he'd  managed — yit 

He'd  got  both  legs  under  it ! 

Fainted  and  come  to,  I  s'pose, 

'Bout  a  dozen  times  whilse  they 
Chopped  him  out! — And  wife  she  froze 

To  him  ! — bresh  his  hair  away 
And  smile  cheerful' — only  when 
He'd  faint. — Cry  and  kiss  him  the n. 

^YBh-'fjiifmn  a'-nlbl  -rroq  inff 
Had  his  nerve ! — And  nussed  him  through,- 

Neghbors  he'pped  her — all  she'd  stand.— 
Had  a  loom,  and  she  could  do 

Carpet-weavin'  railly  grand! — 
"  'Sides,"  she  ust  to  laugh  and  say, 
"She'd  have  Wess,  now,  night  and  day!" 

As  fer  him,  he'd  say,  says-ee, 

"I'm  resigned  to  bein'  lame : — 
They  was  four  coons  up  that  tree, 

And  hounds  got  'em,  jest  the  same!" 
'Feared  like,  one  er  two  legs  less 
Never  worried  "Coon-dog  Wess" ! 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


'Ip  A  Talc  of  the  Airly  Days 

OH !  tell  me  a  tale  of  the  airly  days — 
Of  the  times  as  they  used  to  be; 
"Filler  of  Fi-er"  and  "Shakespeare's  Plays" 

Is  a'  most  too  deep  f er  me ! 
I  want  plane  facts,  and  I  want  plane  words, 

Of  the  good  old-fashioned  ways, 
When  speech  run  free  as  the  songs  of  birds 
'Way  back  in  the  airly  days. 

Tell  me  a  tale  of  the  timber-lands — 

Of  the  old-time  pioneers; 
Somepin'  a  pore  man  understands 

With  his  feelin's  's  well  as  ears. 
Tell  of  the  old  log  house, — about 

The  loft,  and  the  puncheon  flore — 
The  old  fi-er-place,  with  the  crane  swung  out, 

And  the  latch-string  thrugh  the  door. 

Tell  of  the  things  jest  as  they  was — 

They  don't  need  no  excuse ! — 
Don't  tetch  'em  up  like  the  poets  does, 

Tel  theyr  all  too  fine  f  er  use ! — 
Say  they  was  'leven  in  the  fambily — 

Two  beds,  and  the  chist,  below, 
.And  the  trundle-beds  that  each  helt  three, 

And  the  clock  and  the  old  bureau. 

Then  blow  the  horn  at  the  old  back-door 

7el  the  echoes  all  halloo, 
And  the  childern  gethers  home  onc't  more, 

Jest  as  they  ust  to  do  : 
39 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Blow  for  Fap  tel  he  hears  and  comes, 

With  Tonips  and  Elias,  too, 
A-marchin'  home,  with  the  fife  and  drums 

And  the  old  Red  White  and  Blue ! 

Blow  and  blow  tel  the  sound  draps  low 

As  the  moan  of  the  whipperwill, 
And  wake  up  Mother,  and  Ruth  and  Jo, 

All  sleepin'  at  Bethel  Hill : 
Blow  and  call  tel  the  faces  all 

Shine  out  in  the  back-log's  blaze, 
And  the  shadders  dance  on  the  old  hewed  wall 

As  they  did  in  the  airly  days. 


20  "Mylo  Jones's  Wife" 

«-*  yr  YLO  JONES'S  wife"  was  all 

iYJL       I  heerd,  mighty  near,  last  Fall— 
Visitun  relations  down 
T'other  side  of  Morgantown ! 
Mylo  Jones's  wife  she  does 
This  and  that,  and  "those"  and  "thus"  !— 
Can't  bide  babies  in  her  sight — 
Ner  no  childern,  day  and  night, 
Whoopin'  round  the  premises — 
Ner  no  no  thin'  else,  I  guess ! 

Mylo  Jones's  wife  she  'lows 
She's  the  boss  of  her  own  house  !— 
Mylo — consequences  is — 
Stays  whare  things  seem  some  like  his, — 
Uses,  mostly,  with  the  stock — 
Coaxin'  "Old  Kate"  not  to  balk, 
40 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Ner  kick  boss-flics'  branes  out,  ner 
Act,  I  s'pose,  so  much  like  her! 
Yit  the  wimern-folks  tells  you 
She's  perfection. — Yes  they  do  ! 

Mylo's  wife  she  says  she's  found 

Home  hain't  home  with  men-folks  round 

When  they's  work  like  hern  to  do — 

Picklin'  pears  and  butcher'n',  too, 

And  a-render'n'  lard,  and  then 

Cookin'  fer  a  pack  of  men 

To  come  trackin'  up  the  flore 

She's  scrubbed  id  she'll  scrub  no  more! — 

Yit  she'd  keep  things  clean  ef  they 

Made  her  scrub  tel  Jedgmunt  Day ! 

Mylo  Jones's  wife  she  sews 
Carpet-rags  and  patches  clothes 
Jest  year  in  and  out! — and  yit 
Whare's  the  livin'  use  of  it? 
She  asts  Mylo  that. — And  he 
Gits  back  whare  he'd  ruther  be, 
With  his  team; — jest  plows — and  don't 
Never  sware — like  some  folks  won't! 
Think  ef  he'd  cut  loose,  I  gum ! 
'D  hc'p  his  heavenly  chances  some ! 

Mylo's  wife  don't  see  no  use, 
Ner  no  reason  ner  excuse 
Fer  his  pore  relations  to 
Hang  round  like  they  allus  do ! 
Thare  'bout  onc't  a  year — and  she — 
She  jest  ga'nts  'em,  folks  tells  me, 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

On  spiced  pears ! — Pass  Mylo  one, 
He  says  "No,  he  don't  chuse  none !" 
Workin'  men  like  Mylo  they 
'D  ort  to  have  meat  ev'ry  day ! 

Dad-burn  Mylo  Jones's  wife ! 
Ruther  rake  a  blame  case-knife 
'Crost  my  wizzen  than  to  see 
Sich  a  womern  rulin*  me! — 
Ruther  take  and  turn  in  and 
Raise  a  fool  mule-colt  by  hand ! 
Mylo,  though — od-rot  the  man ! — 
Jest  keeps  ca'm — like  some  folks  can- 
And  'low  sich  as  her,  I  s'pose, 
Is  Man's  he'pmeet! — Mercy  knows! 


21     Old  John  Clevcngcr  on  Buckeyes 

OLD  John  Clevenger  lets  on, 
Allus,  like  he's  purty  rough 
Timber. — He's  a  grate  old  John  ! — 

"Rough  ?" — don't  swaller  no  sich  stuff ! 
Moved  here,  sence  the  war  was  through 

From  Ohio — somers  near 
Old  Bucyrus,— loyal,  too, 

As  us  "Hoosiers"  is  to  here! 
Git  old  John  stirred  up  a  bit 

On  his  old  home  stompin'-ground — 
Talks  same  as  he  lived  thare  yit, 
When  some  subject  brings  it  round— 
42 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Like,  fer  instunce,  Sund'y  last, 

Fetched  his  wife,  and  et  and  stayed 
All  night  with  us. — Set  and  gassed 

Tel  plum  midnight — 'cause  I  made 
Some  remark  'bout  "buckeyes"  and 

"What  was  buckeyes  good  fer  ?" — So, 
Like  I  'lowed,  he  waved  his  hand 

And  lit  in  and  let  me  know : — 
"'What  is  Buckeyes  good  fer?' — What's 
Pineys  and  fcr-git-me-nots? — 
Honeysuckles,  and  sweet  peas, 
And  sweet-williamsuz,  and  these 
Johnny-jump-ups  ev'rywhare, 
Growin'  round  the  roots  o'  trees 
In  Spring-weather  ? — what  air  they 
Good  fer? — kin  you  tell  me — Hey? 
'Good  to  look  at  ?'    Well  they  air ! 
'Specially  when  Winter's  gone, 
Clean  dead-ccrt'in!  and  the  wood's 
Green  again,  and  sun  feels  good's 
June ! — and  shed  your  blame  boots  on 
The  back  porch,  and  lit  out  to 
Roam  round  like  you  ust  to  do, 
Bare-foot,  up  and  down  the  crick, 
Whare  the  buckeyes  growed  so  thick, 
And  witch-hazel  and  pop-paws, 
And  hackberries  and  black-haws — 
With  wild-pizen  vines  jis  knit 
Over  and  en-nundcr  it, 
And  wove  round  it  all,  I  jing! 
Tel  you  couldn't  hardly  stick 
A  durn  case-knife  through  the  thing! 

43 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Wriggle  round  through  that;  and  then 

All  het-up,  and  scratched  and  tanned, 

And  muskeeter-bit  and  mean- 

Feelin' — all  at  onc't  again, 

Come  out  suddent  on  a  clean 

Slopin'  little  hump  o'  green 

Dry  soft  grass,  as  fine  and  grand 

As  a  pollor-sofy! — And 

Jis  pile  down  thare ! — and  tell  tne 

Anywharcs  you'd  ruther  be — 

'Ceptin'  right  thare,  with  the  wild- 

Flowrs  all  round  ye,  and  your  eyes 

Smilin'  with  'em  at  the  skies, 

Happy  as  a  little  child ! 

Well ! — right  here,  7  want  to  say, 

Poets  kin  talk  all  they  please 

'Bout  'wild-flowrs,  in  colors  gay,' 

And  'sweet  blossoms  flauntin*  theyr 

Beauteous  fragrunce  on  the  breeze'— 

But  the  sight  o'  buckeyes  jis 

Sweet  to  me  as  blossoms  is ! 

"I'm  Ohio-born — right  whare 
People's  all  called  'Buckeyes'  thare — 
'Cause,  I  s'pose,  our  buckeye  crap's 
Biggest  in  the  world,  perhaps ! — 
Ner  my  head  don't  stretch  my  hat 
Too  much  on  account  o'  that! — 
'Cause  it's  Natchur's  ginerus  hand 
Sows  'em  broadcast  ore  the  land, 
With  eye-single  fer  man's  good 
And  the  gineral  neghborhood ! 

44 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

So  buckeyes  jis  natchurly 

'Pears  like  kith-and-kin  to  me! 

'S  like  the  good  old  sayin'  wuz, 

Turty  is  as  purty  does!'— 

We  can't  eat  'em,  cookd  er  raw — 

Yit,  I  mind,  tomattusus 

Wuz  considered  pizenus 

Onc't — and  dasent  eat  'em  ! — Pshaw — 

'T wouldn't  take  me  by  supprise, 

Someday,  ef  we  et  buckeyes! 

That,  though,  's  nuther  here  ner  thare ! 

Jis  the  Buckeye  whare  we  air, 

In  the  present  times,  is  what 

Ockuppies  my  lovin'  care 

And  my  most  perfotmdest  thought ! 

.     .     .     Guess,  this  minute,  what  I  got: 

In  my  pocket,  'at  I've  packed 

Purt'  nigh  forty  year. — A  dry, 

Slick  and  shiny,  warped  and  cracked, 

Wilted,  weazened  old  buckeye! 

What's  it  thare  fer?    WThat's  my  hart 

In  my  brcst  fer? — 'Cause  it's  part 

Of  my  life — and  'tends  to  biz — 

Like  this  buckeye's  bound  to  act — 

'Cause  it  'tends  to  Rhumath! 

".    .    .     Ketched  more  rhumatiz  than  fish 
Seinen',  onc't — and  pants  froze  on 
My  blame  legs  !-r— And  ust  to  wish 
I  wuz  well  er  dead  and  gone! 
.Ji'C'?  oj  i-'j-//  nio-}1  F>hgw  txi'J  ibiiioa  ,bfiA 
!  bnfl  1373  H'uov  vj)*'jnod  oVl 
45 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Doc  give  up  the  case,  and  shod 

His  old  hoss  again  and  stayed 

On  good  roads! — And  thare  I  laid! 

Pap  he  tuck  some  bluegrass  sod 

Steeped  in  whisky,  bilin'-hot, 

And  socked  that  on !    Then  I  got 

Sorto*  holt  o'  him,  somehow — 

Kindo*  crazy-like,  they  say — 

And  I'd  killed  him,  like  as  not, 

Ef  I  hadn't  swooned  away! 

Smell  my  scortcht  pelt  purt'  nigh  now! 

Well — to  make  a  long  tale  short — 

I  hung  on  the  blame  disease 

Like  a  shavin'-hoss  !  and  sort 

O'  wore  it  out  by  slow  degrees — 

Tel  my  legs  wuz  straight  enugh 

To  poke  through  my  pants  again 

And  kick  all  the  doctor-stuff 

In  the  fi-er-place!    Then  turned  in 

And  tuck  Daddy  Craig's  old  cuore — 

Jls  a  buckeye — and  that's  shore. — 

Hain't  no  case  o'  rhumatiz 

Kin  subsist  whare  buckeyes  is !" 


22  The  Hoss 

THE  hoss  he  is  a  splendud  beast; 
He  is  man's  friend,  as  heaven  desined, 
And,  search  the  world  from  west  to  east, 
No  honester  you'll  ever  find ! 
46 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Some  calls  the  boss  "a  pore  dumb  brute," 
And  yit,  like  Him  who  died  fer  you, 

I  say,  as  I  theyr  charge  refute, 
"  'Fergive ;  they  know  not  what  they  do !'  " 

No  wiser  animal  makes  tracks 
Upon  these  earthly  shores,  and  hence 

Arose  the  axium,  true  as  facts, 

Extoled  by  all,  as  "Good  hoss-sense !" 

The  hoss  is  strong,  and  knows  his  stren'th, — 

You  hitch  him  up  a  time  er  two 
And  lash  him,  and  he'll  go  his  len'th 

And  kick  the  dashboard  out  fer  you ! 

But,  treat  him  allus  good  and  kind, 
And  never  strike  him  with  a  stick, 

Ner  aggervate  him,  and  you'll  find 
He'll  never  do  a  hostile  trick. 

A  hoss  whose  master  tends  him  right 
And  worters  him  with  daily  care, 

Will  do  your  biddin'  with  delight, 
And  act  as  docile  as  you  air. 

He'll  paw  and  prance  to  hear  your  praise, 
Because  he's  learnt  to  love  you  well ; 

And,  though  you  can't  tell  what  he  says, 
He'll  nicker  all  he  wants  to  tell. 

He  knows  you  when  you  slam  the  gate 

At  early  dawn,  upon  your  way 
Unto  the  barn,  and  snorts  elate, 

To  git  his  corn,  er  oats,  er  hay. 

47 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

He  knows  you,  as  the  orphant  knows 
The  folks  that  loves  her  like  theyr  own, 

And  raises  her  and  "finds"  her  clothes, 
And  "schools"  her  tel  a  womern-grown ! 

I  claim  no  hoss  will  harm  a  man, 
Ner  kick,  ner  run  away,  cavort, 

Stump-suck,  er  balk,  er  "catamaran," 
Ef  you'll  jest  treat  him  as  you  ort. 

But  when  I  see  the  beast  abused, 
And  clubbed  around  as  I've  saw  some, 

I  want  to  see  his  owner  noosed, 
And  jest  yanked  up  like  Absolum! 

Of  course  they's  differunce  in  stock, — 

A  hoss  that  has  a  little  yeer, 
And  slender  build,  and  shaller  hock, 

Can  beat  his  shadder,  mighty  near ! 

Whilse  one  that's  thick  in  neck  and  chist 
And  big  in  leg  and  full  in  flank, 

That  tries  to  race,  I  still  insist 

He'll  have  to  take  the  second  rank. 

And  I  have  jest  laid  back  and  laughed, 
And  rolled  and  wallered  in  the  grass 

At  fairs,  to  see  some  heavy-draft 
Lead  out  at  first,  yit  come  in  last! 

Each  hoss  has  his  appinted  place, — 

The  heavy  hoss  should  plow  the  soil ; — 

The  blooded  racer,  he  must  race, 
And  win  big  wages  fer  his  toil. 
48 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

I  never  bet — ner  never  wrought 

Upon  my  feller  man  to  bet — 
And  yit,  at  times,  I've  often  thought 

Of  my  convictions  with  regret. 

,X£W  anioa  ,nnn  siLt  ^m**  uifj  HE  Ju3 
I  bless  the  hoss  from  hoof  to  head — 

From  head  to  hoof,  and  tale  to  mane!--= 
I  bless  the  hoss,  as  I  have  said, 

From  head  to  hoof,  and  back  again ! 

jsw  bus  \ib  .^Dnjjiaixs 
I  love  my  God  the  first  of  all, 

Then  Him  that  perished  on  the  cross, 
And  next,  my  wife, — and  then  I  fall 
Down  on  my  knees  and  love  the  hoss. 


23  Wet-Weather  Talk 

IT  hain't  no  use  to  grumble  and  complane; 
It's  jest  as  cheap  and  easy  to  rejoice. — 
When  God  sorts  out  the  weather  and  sends  rain, 
W'y,  rain's  my  choice. 

Men  ginerly,  to  all  intents — 

Although  they're  apt  to  grumble  some — 
Puts  most  theyr  trust  in  Providence, 
And  takes  things  as  they  come — 
That  is,  the  commonality 
Of  men  that's  lived  as  long  as  me 
Has  watched  the  world  en  ugh  to  learn 
They're  not  the  boss  of  this  concern. 

49 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

With  some,  of  course,  it's  different — 

I've  saw  young  men  that  knowed  it  all, 
And  didn't  like  the  way  things  went 
On  this  terrestchul  ball;— 

But  all  the  same,  the  rain,  some  way, 
Rained  jest  as  hard  on  picnic  day; 
Er,  when  they  railly  wanted  it, 
It  mayby  wouldn't  rain  a  bit ! 

In  this  existunce,  dry  and  wet 

Will  overtake  the  best  of  men- 
Some  little  ski  ft  o'  clouds'll  shet 
The  sun  off  now  and  then. — 

And  mayby,  whilse  you're  wundern  who 
You've  fool-like  lent  your  umbrell'  to, 
And  want  it — out'll  pop  the  sun, 
And  you'll  be  glad  you  hain't  got  none! 

It  aggervates  the  farmers,  too — 

They's  too  much  wet,  er  too  much  sun, 
Er  work,  er  waitin*  round  to  do 
Before  the  plowin'  's  done: 

And  mayby,  like  as  not,  the  wheat, 
Jest  as  it's  lookin'  hard  to  beat, 
Will  ketch  the  storm — and  jest  about 
The  time  the  corn's  a-jintm'  out. 

These-here  cy-clones  a-foolin'  round — 

And  back'ard  crops ! — and  wind  and  rain  !- 

And  yit  the  corn  that's  wallerd  down 
May  elbow  up  again ! — 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

They  hain't  no  sense,  as  I  can  see, 
Per  mortuls,  sich  as  us,  to  be 
A-faultin'  Natchur's  wise  intents, 
And  lockin'  horns  with  Providence ! 

It  hain't  no  use  to  grumble  and  complane ; 

It's  jest  as  cheap  and  easy  to  rejoice. — 
When  God  sorts  out  the  weather  and  sends  rain, 

W'y,  rain's  my  choice. 


24  Ezra  House 

[These  lines  was  writ,  in  ruther  high  sperits,  jest  at  the 
close  of  what's  called  the  Anti  Bellum  Days,  and  more  to 
be  a-foolin'  than  anything  else, — though  they  is  more  er 
less  facts  in  it.  But  some  of  the  boys,  at  the  time  we  was 
all  a-singin' it,  ferEzry's  benefit,  to  the  old  tune  of  "The  Oak 
and  the  Ash  and  the  Bonny  Wilier  Tree,"  got  it  struck  off 
in  the  weekly,  without  leave  er  lisence  of  mine;  and  so 
sence  they's  allus  some  of  'em  left  to  rigg  me  about  it  yit, 
I  might  as  well  claim  the  thing  right  here  and  now,  so  here 
goes.  I  give  it  jest  as  it  appeared,  fixed  up  and  grammati- 
sizcd  consider'ble,  as  the  editer  told  me  he  took  the  liburty 
of  doin',  in  that  sturling  old  home  paper  THE  ADVANCE — 
as  sound  a  paper  yit  to-day  and  as  stanch  and  abul  as  you'll 
find  in  a  hunderd.] 

COME  listen,  good  people,  while  a  story  I  do  tell, 
Of  the  sad  fate  of  one  which  I  knew  so  passing  well; 
He  enlisted  at  McCordsville,  to  battle  in  the  South, 
And  protect  his  country's  union ;  his  name  was  Ezra  House. 

0 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

He  was  a  young  school-teacher,  and  educated  high 
In  regards  to  Ray's  arithmetic,  and  also  Algebra : 
He  give  good  satisfaction,  but  at  his  country's  call 
He  dropped  his  position,  his  Algebra  and  all. 

"It's  oh,  I'm  going  to  leave  you,  kind  scholars,"  he  said— 
For  he  wrote  a  composition  the  last  day  and  read  ; 
And  it  brought  many  tears  in  the  eyes  of  the  school, 
To  say  nothing  of  his  sweetheart  he  was  going  to  leave  so 
soon. 

"I  have  many  recollections  to  take  with  me  away, 
Of  the  merry  transpirations  in  the  schoolroom  so  gay; 
And  of  all  that's  past  and  gone  I  will  never  regret 
I  went  to  serve  my  country  at  the  first  of  the  outset !" 

He  was  a  good  penman,  and  the  lines  that  he  wrote 
On  that  sad  occasion  was  too  fine  for  me  to  quote, — • 
For  I  was  there  and  heard  it,  and  I  ever  will  recall 
It  brought  the  happy  tears  to  the  eyes  of  us  all. 

And  when  he  left,  his  sweetheart  she  fainted  away, 
And  said  she  could  never  forget  the  sad  day 
When  her  lover  so  noble,  and  gallant  and  gay, 
Said  "Fare  you  well,  my  true  love !"  and  went  marching 
away. 

But  he  hadn't  been  gone  for  more  than  two  months, 
When  the  sad  news  come — "he  was  in  a  skirmish  once, 
And  a  cruel  Rebel  ball  had  wounded  him  full  sore 
In  the  region  of  the  chin,  through  the  canteen  he  wore." 

52 


THE   IIOOSIER   BOOK 

But  his  health  recruited  up,  and  his  wounds  they  got  well, 
But  whilst  he  was  in  battle  at  Bull  Run  or  Malvern  Hill, 
The  news  come  again,  so  sorrowful  to  hear — 
"A  sliver  from  a  bombshell  cut  off  his  right  ear." 

But  he  stuck  to  the  boys,  and  it's  often  he  would  write, 
That  "he  wasn't  afraid  for  his  country  to  fight." 
But  oh,  had  he  returned  on  a  furlough,  I  believe 
He  would  not,  to-day,  have  such  cause  to  grieve. 

For  in  another  battle — the  name  I  never  heard — 

He  was  guarding  the  wagons  when  an  accident  occurred,— 

A  comrade  who  was  under  the  influence  of  drink, 

Shot  him  with  a  musket  through  the  right  cheek,  I  think. 

But  his  dear  life  was  spared ;  but  it  hadn't  been  for  long, 
Till  a  cruel  Rebel  colonel  come  riding  along, 
And  struck  him  with  his  sword,  as  many  do  suppose, 
For  his  cap-rim  was  cut  off,  and  also  his  nose. 

But  Providence,  who  watches  o'er  the  noble  and  the  brave, 
Snatched  him  once  more  from  the  jaws  of  the  grave; 
And  just  a  little  while  before  the  close  of  the  war, 
He  sent  his  picture  home  to  his  girl  away  so  far. 

And  she  fell  into  decline,  and  she  wrote  in  reply, 
"She  had  seen  his  face  again  and  was  ready  to  die" ; 
And  she  wanted  him  to  promise,  when  she  was  in  her  tomb. 
He  would  only  visit  that  by  the  light  of  the  moon. 

But  he  never  returned  at  the  close  of  the  war, 
And  the  boys  that  got  back  said  he  hadn't  the  heart ; 
But  he  got  a  position  in  a  powder-mill,  and  said 
He  hoped  to  meet  the  doom  that  his  country  denied. 

53 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

«?5      A  Pen-Pictur'  of  a  C  erf  in  Friv- 
volus  Old  Man 

MOST  ontimely  old  man  yit! 
Tear-like  sometimes  he  jest  trie* 
His  fool-self,  and  takes  the  bitt 

In  his  teeth  and  jest  de-fies 
All  perpryties  ! — Lay  and  swet 

Doin*  nothin' — only  jest 
Sorto'  speckillatun  on 
Whare  old  summer-times  is  gone, 

And  'bout  things  that  he  loved  best 
When  a  youngster  !    Heerd  him  say 
Spring-times  made  him  thataway — 

Speshully  on  Sund'ys — when 

Sun  shines  out  and  in  again, 
And  the  lonesome  old  hens  they 

Git  off  under  the  old  kern- 
Bushes,  and  in  deep  concern 
Talk-like  to  theyrselves,  and  scratch 

Kindo*  absunt-minded,  jest 
Like  theyr  thoughts  was  fur  away 
In  some  neghbor's  gyarden-patch 

Folks  has  tended  keerfullest! 
Heerd  the  old  man  dwell  on  these 

Idys  time  and  time  again ! — 
Heerd  him  claim  that  orchurd-trees 

Bloomin',  put  the  mischief  in 
His  old  hart  sometimes  that  bad 
And  owdacious  that  he  "had 

To  break  loose  someway"  says  hes 

"Ornry  as  I  ust  to  be !" 
54 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Heerd  him  say  one  time — when  I 
Was  a  sorto'  standin'  by, 

And  the  air  so  still  and  clear, 

Heerd  the  bell  f  er  church  clean  here  !- 
Said :   "Ef  I  could  climb  and  set 

On  the  old  three-cornered  rail 
Old  home-place,  nigh  Maryette', 

Swop  my  soul  off,  hide  and  tale !" 
And-sir !  blame  ef  tear  and  laugh 
Didn't  ketch  him  half  and  half  ! 

"Oh !"  he  says,  "to  wake  and  be 
Barefoot,  in  the  airly  dawn 

In  the  pastur' ! — thare,"  says  he, 
"Standin'  whare  the  cow's  slep*  on 

The  cold,  dewy  grass  that's  got 

Print  of  her  jest  steamy  hot 
Fer  to  warm  a  feller's  heels 
In  a  while ! — How  good  it  feels ! 

Sund'y ! — Country ! — Morning ! — Hear 
Nothin'  but  the  silunce — see 

Nothin'  but  green  woods  and  clear 
Skies  and  unwrit  poetry 
By  the  acre  !     .    .    .     Oh  !"  says  he, 

"What's  this  voice  of  mine? — to  seek 

To  speak  out,  and  yit  can't  speak ! 


"Think!— the  lazyest  of  days"— 
Takin'  his  contrairyest  leap, 
He  went  on, — "git  up,  er  sleep — 

Er  whilse  feedin',  watch  the  haze 
Dancin'  crost  the  wheat, — and  keep 


55 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

My  pipe  goin'  laisurely — 

Puff  and  whiff  as  pleases  me, — 

Er  I'll  leave  a  trail  of  smoke 
Through  the  house! — no  one'll  say 
'Throw  that  nasty  thing  away!' 

'Pear-like  nothin*  sacerd's  broke, 
Goin'  barefoot  ef  I  chuse ! — 

I  have  fiddled; — and  dug  bait 
And  "went  fishin'; — pitched  hoss-shoes— 
Whare  they  couldn't  see  us  from 
The  main  road. — And  I've  beat  some. 

I've  set  round  and  had  my  joke 
With  the  thrashers  at  the  barn — 
And  I've  swapped  'em  yarn  f er  yarn  !— 

Er  I've  he'pped  the  childern  poke 
Per  hens'-nests — agged  on  a  match 
'Twixt  the  boys,  to  watch  'em  scratch 

And  paw  round  and  rip  and  tare, 

And  bu'st  buttons  and  pull  hair 
To  theyr  rompin'  harts'  content — 

And  me  jest  a-settin'  thare 
Hatchin'  out  more  devilment ! 

"What  you  s'pose  now  ort  to  be 
Done  with  sich  a  man?"  says  he — • 
"Sich  a  f ool-old-rnan  as  me !" 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


26  Thoughts  on  a  Pore  Joke 

I    LIKE  fun— and  I  like  jokes 
'Bout  as  well  as  most  o'  folks ! — • 
Like  my  joke,  and  like  my  fun ; — 
But  a  joke,  I'll  state  right  here, 
'S  got  some  p'int — er  I  don't  keer 

Fer  no  joke  that  hain't  got  none. — 
I  hain't  got  no  use,  I'll  say, 
Fer  a  pore  joke,  anyway! 

F'r  instunce,  now,  when  some  folks  gits 
To  relyin'  on  theyr  wits, 
Ten  to  one  they  git  too  smart 
And  spile  it  all,  right  at  the  start ! 
Feller  wants  to  jest  go  slow 
And  do  his  thinkin'  first,  you  know. 
'F  I  can't  think  up  somepin'  good, 
I  set  still  and  chaw  my  cood ! 
'F  you  think  nothin' — jest  keep  on, 
But  don't  say  it — er  you're  gone  I 
—nib  -r.vjbbx  tfno  ;.-n  onJ  ?!i,>a 

27  'A  Mortul  Prayer 

OH !  Thou  that  veileth  from  all  eyes 
The  glory  of  Thy  face, 
And  setteth  throned  behind  the  skies 

In  Thy  abiding-place : 
Though  I  but  dimly  reco'nize 
Thy  purposes  of  grace; 
57 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  though  with  weak  and  wavering 
Deserts,  and  vexed  with  fears, 

I  lift  the  hands  I  can  not  wring 
All  dry  of  sorrow's  tears, 

Make  puore  my  prayers  that  daily  wing 
Theyr  way  unto  Thy  ears ! 

Oh !  with  the  hand  that  tames  the  flood 

And  smooths  the  storm  to  rest, 
Make  ba'mmy  dews  of  all  the  blood 

That  stormeth  in  my  brest, 
And  so  refresh  my  hart  to  bud 

And  bloom  the  loveliest. 
Lull  all  the  clammer  of  my  soul 

To  silunce ;  bring  release 
Unto  the  brane  still  in  controle 

Of  doubts ;  bid  sin  to  cease, 
And  let  the  waves  of  pashun  roll 

And  kiss  the  shores  of  peace. 

Make  me  love  my  feller  man- 
Yea,  though  his  bitterness 

Doth  bite  as  only  adders  can — 
Let  me  the  fault  confess, 

And  go  to  him  and  clasp  his  hand 
And  love  him  none  the  less. 

So  keep  me,  Lord,  f erever  free 
From  vane  concete  er  whim ; 

And  he  whose  plus  eyes  can  see 
My  faults,  however  dim,— 

Oh !  let  him  pray  the  least  f  er  me. 
And  me  the  most  fer  him. 

58 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


28  The  First  Bluebird 

"3  :,  Ur  aiiUB  y:iiboibaiq  r.  cr^UKr 

JEST  rain  and  snow!  and  rain  again! 
And  dribble  !  drip  !  and  blow  ! 
Then  snow  !  and  thaw  !  and  slush  !  and  then- 
Some  more  rain  and  snow  ! 

This  morning  I  was  'most  afeard 

To  wake  up  —  when,  I  jing! 
I  seen  the  sun  shine  out  and  heerd 

The  first  bluebird  of  Spring!  — 
Mother  she'd  raised  the  winder  some  ;  — 
And  in  acrost  the  orchurd  come, 

Soft  as  a'  angel's  wing, 
A  breezy,  treesy,  beesy  hum, 

Too  sweet  fer  anything! 

The  winter's  shroud  was  rent  apart- 

The  sun  bu'st  forth  in  glee,  — 
And  when  that  bluebird  sung,  my  hart 

Hopped  out  o'  bed  with  me  ! 


29     On  Any  Or  denary  Man  In  a  High 
State  of  Lauc/hture  and  Delight 

AS  it's  give'  me  to  perceive, 
I  most  cert'in'y  believe 
When  a  man's  jest  glad  plum  through, 
God's  pleased  with  him,  same  as 
59 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

jo  Town  and  Country 

THEY'S  a  predjudice  allus  'twixt  country  and  town 
Which  I  wisht  in  my  hart  wasent  so. 
You  take  city  people,  jest  square  up  and  down, 

And  they're  mighty  good  people  to  know : 
And  whare's  better  people  a-livin',  to-day, 

Than  us  in  the  country? — Yit  good 
As  both  of  us  is,  we're  divorsed,  you  might  say, 
And  won't  compermise  when  we  could ! 

Now  as  nigh  into  town  fer  yer  Pap,  ef  you  please, 

Is  what's  called  the  sooburbs. — Fer  thare 
You'll  at  least  ketch  a  whiff  of  the  breeze  and  a  sniff 

Of  the  breth  of  wild-flowrs  ev'rywhare. 
They's  room  fer  the  childern  to  play,  and  grow,  too — 

And  to  roll  in  the  grass,  er  to  climb 
Up  a  tree  and  rob  nests,  like  they  orient  to  do, 

But  they'll  do  anyhow  ev'ry  time ! 

My  Son-in-law  said,  when  he  lived  in  the  town, 

He  jest  natchurly  pined,  night  and  day, 
Fer  a  sight  of  the  woods,  er  a  acre  of  ground 

Whare  the  trees  wasent  all  cleared  away ! 
And  he  says  to  me  onc't,  whilse  a-visitin'  us 

On  the  farm,  "It's  not  strange,  I  declare, 
That  we  can't  coax  you  folks,  without  raisin*  a  fuss, 

To  come  to  town,  visitin'  thare !" 

And  says  T,  "Then  gil  back  whare  you  sorto*  belong — 

And  Madaline,  too, — and  yer  three 
Little  childern,"  says  I,  "that  don't  know  a  bird-song, 

Ner  a  hawk  from  a  chicky-dee-dee ! 
60 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Git  back,"  I-says-I,  "to  the  blue  of  the  sky 

And  the  green  of  the  fields,  and  the  shine 
Of  the  sun,  with  a  laugh  in  yer  voice  and  yer  eye 

As  harty  as  Mother's  and  mine !" 

Well — long-and-short  of  it, — he's  compermised  some— 

He's  moved  in  the  sooburbs. — And  now 
They  don't  haf  to  coax,  when  they  want  us  to  come, 

'Cause  we  turn  in  and  go  anyhow! 
Per  thare — well,  they's  room  fer  the  songs  and  purfume 

Of  the  grove  and  the  old  orchurd-ground, 
And  they's  room  fer  the  childern  out  thare,  and  they's 
room 

Fer  theyr  Gran'pap  to  waller  'em  round ! 


ji         Decoration  Day  on  tile  Place 

IT'S   lonesome — sorto*  lonesome, — it's   a  Sund'y-day,  to 
me, 

It  'pears-like — more'n  any  day  I  nearly  ever  see ! — 
Yit,  with  the  Stars  and  Stripes  above,  a-flutterin'  in  the  air, 
On  ev'ry  Soldier's  grave  I'd  love  to  lay  a  lily  thare. 

They  say,  though,  Decoration  Day  is  giner'ly  observed 
'Most  ev'rywhares — espeshally  by  soldier-boys  that's 

served. — 

But  me  and  Mother's  never  went — we  seldom  git  away, — 
In  p'int  o*  fact,  we're  allus  home  on  Decoration  Day. 

61 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

They  say  the  old  boys  marches  through  the  streets  in 

colum's  grand, 

A-follerin'  the  old  war-tunes  they're  playin'  on  the  band— i 
And  citizuns  all  jinin'  in — and  little  childern,  too — 
All  marchin',   under  shelter  of  the  old   Red  White  and 

Blue.— 

With  roses  1  roses  !  roses  ! — ev'rybody  in  the  town ! — 
And  crowds  o*  little  girls  in  white,  jest  fairly  loaded 

down ! — 
Oh !  don't  THE  BOYS  know  it,  from  theyr  camp  acrost  the 

hill?— 
Don't  they   see  theyr   com'ards   comin*   and   the   old   flag 

wavin'  still? 

Oh  !  can't  they  hear  the  bugul  and  the  rattle  of  the  drum? — 
Ain't  they  no  way  under  heavens  they  can  rickollect  us 

some? 
Ain't  they  no  way  we  can  coax  'em,  through  the  roses,  jest 

to  say 
They  know  that  ev'ry  day  on  earth's  theyr  Decoration  Day  ? 

We've  tried  that — me  and  Mother, — whare  Elias  takes  his 

rest, 

In  the  orchurd — in  his  uniform,  and  hands  acrost  his  brest, 
And  the  flag  he  died  f  er,  smilin'  and  a-ripplin'  in  the  breeze 
Above  his  grave — and  over  that, — the  robin  in  the  trees! 

And  yit  if  s  lonesome — lonesome ! — It's  a  Sund'y-day,  to  me, 

It  'pears-like — more'n  any  day  I  nearly  ever  see ! — 

Still,  with  the  Stars  and  Stripes  above,  a-flutterin'  in  the 

air, 

On  ev'ry  Soldier's  grave  I'd  love  to  lay  a  lily  thare. 

62 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


32         The  Rcssz'ille  Lectur'  Course 

[Set  down  from  the  real  facts  of  the  case  that  come  un 
der  notice  of  the  author  whilse  visitun  far  distant  relatives 
who  ivuz  then  residin'  at  Rossville,  Mich.] 

FOLKS  up  here  at  Rossville  got  up  a  Lectur'  Course :— 
All  the  leadin'  citizens  they  wuz  out  in  force ; 
Met  and  talked  at  Williamses',  and  'greed  to  meet  ag'in ; 
And  helt  another  corkus  when  the  next  reports  wuz  in : 
Met  ag'in  at  Samuelses';  and  met  ag'in  at  Moore's 
And  Johnts  putt  the  shutters  up  and  jest  barr'd  the  door! — 
And  yit,  I'll  jest  be  dagg-don'd !  eft  didn't  take  a  week 
'Fore  we'd  settled  whare  to  write  to  git  a  man  to  speak ! 

Found  out  whare  the  "Bureau"  wuz;  and  then  and  thara 

agreed 

To  strike  whilse  the  iron's  hot  and  foller  up  the  lead. — 
Simp  wuz  Secatary;  so  he  tuk  his  pen  in  hand, 
And  ast  'em  what  they'd  tax  us  fer  the  one  on  "Holy 

Land" — 

"One  of  Colonel  J.  De-Koombs's  Abelust  and  Best 
Lectur's,"  the  circ'lar  stated,  "Give  East  er  West !" 
Wanted  fifty  dollars  and  his  kyar-fare  to  and  from, 
And  Simp  wuz  hence  instructed  fer  to  write  him  not  t<\ 

come. 

Then  we  talked  and  jawed  around  another  week  er  so, 
And  writ  the  "Bureau"  'bout  the  town  a-bein'  sorto'  slow— 
Old-fogey-like,  and  pore  as  dirt,  and  lackin'  interprise 
And  ignornter'n  any  other,  'cordin'  to  its  size: 

63 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Tel  finully  the  "Bureau"  said  they'd  send  a  cheaper  man 
Per  forty  dollars,  who  would  give  "A  Talk  About  Japan"— 
"A  reg'lar  Japanee  hise'f,"  the  pamphlet  claimed ;  and  so, 
Nobody  knowed  his  languige,  and  of  course  we  let  him  go ! 

Kindo*  then  let  up  a  spell — but  rallied  onc't  ag'in, 
And  writ  to  price  a  feller  on  what's  called  the  "violin" — 
A  Swede,  er  Pole,  er  somepin' — but  no  matter  what  he  wuz, 
Doc  Cooper  said  he'd  heerd  him,  and  he  wuzn't  wuth  a 

kuss ! 
And  then  we  ast   fer  Swlngse's  terms;   and   Cook,  and 

Ing  er  soil — 

And  blame !  ef  forty  dollars  looked  like  anything  at  all ! 
And  then  Burdette,  we  tried  fer  him;  and  Bob  he  writ  to 

say 
He  wuz  busy  writin'  ortographts  and  couldn't  git  away. 

At  last — along  in  Aprile — we  signed  to  take  this-here 
Bill  Nye  of  Californy,  'at  wuz  posted  to  appear 
"The  Comicalest  Funny  Man  'at  Ever  Jammed  a  Hall !" 
So  we  made  big  preperations,  and  swep*  out  the  church  and 

all! 
And  night  he  wuz  to  lectur',  and  the  neghbors  all  wuz 

thare, 
And  strangers  packed  along  the  aisles  'at  come  from  ev'ry- 

whare, 

Committee  got  a  telegrapht  the  preacher  read,  'at  run — 
"Got  off  at  Rossville,  Indiany,  'stid  of  Michigun." 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 
A  Dos't  o'  Blues 

I   GOT  no  patience  with  blues  at  all ! 
And  I  list  to  kind  o'  talk 
Ag'inst  'em,  and  claim,  tel  along  last  Fall, 

They  wuz  none  in  the  f  ambly  stock ; 
But  a  nephew  of  mine,  from  Eelinoy, 

That  visitud  us  last  year, 
He  kind  o'  convinct  me  differunt 
Whilse  he  wuz  a-stayin'  here. 

From  ev'ry-which-way  that  blues  is  from, 

They'd  pester  him  ev'ry-ways ; 
They'd  come  to  him  in  the  night,  and  come 

On  Sund'ys,  and  rainy  days ; 
They'd  tackle  him  in  corn-plantin'  time, 

And  in  harvest,  and  airly  Fall, — 
But  a  dos't  o'  blues  in  the  Winter-time, 

He  'lowed,  wuz  the  worst  of  all ! 

Said  "All  diseases  that  ever  he  had— 

The  mumps,  er  the  rhumatiz — 
Er  ev'ry-other-day-aigger — bad 

As  ever  the  blame  thing  is  ! — 
Er  a  cyarbuncle,  say,  on  the  back  of  his  neck, 

Er  a  felon  on  his  thumb, — 
But  you  keep  the  blues  away  from  him, 

And  all  o'  the  rest  could  come  !" 

And  he'd  moan,  "They's  nary  a  leaf  below  I 

Ner  a  spear  o'  grass  in  sight! 
And  the  whole  wood-pile's  clean  under  snow ! 

And  the  days  is  dark  as  night  1 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

You  can't  go  out — ner  you  can't  stay  in- 
Lay  down — stand  up — ner  set!" 

And  a  tetch  o'  regular  tyfoid-blues 
Would  double  him  jest  clean  shetl 

I  writ  his  parunts  a  postal-kyard 

He  could  stay  tel  Spring-time  come ; 
And  Aprile — first,  as  I  rickollect — • 

Wuz  the  day  we  shipped  him  home ! 
Most  o'  his  relatives,  sence  then, 

Has  eether  give  up,  er  quit, 
Er  jest  died  off;  but  I  understand 

He's  the  same  old  color  yit ! 


34  Pap's  Old  Sayin* 

PAP  had  one  old-fashioned  sayin' 
That  I'll  never  quite  fergit — 
And  they's  seven  growed-up  childern 

Of  us  rickollects  it  yit! — 
Settin*  round  the  dinner-table, 

Talkin'  'bout  our  friends,  perhaps, 
Er  abusin*  of  our  neghbors, 

I  kin  hear  them  words  o'  Pap's — 
"Shet  up,  and  eat  yer  vittels !" 

Pap  he'd  never  argy  with  us, 
Ner  cut  any  subject  short 

Whilse  we  all  kep'  clear  o'  gossip, 
And  wuz  actin'  as  we  ort : 


66 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

But  ef  we'd  git  out  o'  order — 
Like  sometimes  a  fambly  is,—? 

Faultin'  folks,  er  one  another, 
Then  we'd  hear  that  voice  o'  his— 
"Shet  up,  and  eat  yer  vittels  1" 

Wuz  no  hand  hisse'f  at  talkin'— • 

Never  hadn't  much  to  say, — 
Only,  as  I  said,  pervidin' 

When  we'd  rile  him  thataway: 
Then  he'd  allus  lose  his  temper 

Spite  o'  fate,  and  jerk  his  head 
And  slam  down  his  case-knife  vicious* 

Whilse  he  glared  around  and  said — 
"Shet  up,  and  eat  yer  vittels !" 

Mind  last  time  'at  Pap  was  ailin* 

With  a  misery  in  his  side, 
And  had  hobbled  in  the  kitchen — 

Jest  the  day  before  he  died, — 
Laury  Jane  she  ups  and  tells  him, 

"Pap,  you're  pale  as  pale  kin  be — 
Hain't  ye  'feard  them-air  cowcumbers 

Hain't  good  f er  ye  ?"  And  says  he, 
"Shet  up,  and  eat  yer  vittels !" 

Well !  I've  saw  a-many  a  sorrow, — 
Forty  year',  through  thick  and  thin ; 

I've  got  best, — and  I've  got  worsted, 
Time  and  time  and  time  ag'in ! — 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

But  I've  met  a-many  a  trouble 
That  I  hain't  run  on  to  twice, 

Haltin'-like  and  thinkin'  over 
Them-air  words  o*  Pap's  advice : 
"Shet  up,  and  eat  yer  vittels  1" 


J5  An  Old  Man's  Memory 

THE  delights  of  our  childhood  is  soon  passed  away, 
And  our  gloryus  youth  it  departs, — 
And  yit,  dead  and  hurried,  they's  blossoms  of  May 

Ore  theyr  medderland  graves  in  our  harts. 
So,  friends  of  my  barefooted  days  on  the  farm, 

Whether  truant  in  city  er  not, 
God  prosper  you  same  as  He's  prosperin*  me, 
Whilse  your  past  hain't  despised  er  forgot. 

Oh !  they's  nothin',  at  morn,  that's  as  grand  unto  me 

As  the  glorys  of  Natchur  so  fare, — 
With  the  Spring  in  the  breeze,  and  the  bloom  in  the  trees, 

And  the  hum  of  the  bees  ev'rywhare ! 
The  green  in  the  woods,  and  the  birds  in  the  boughs, 

And  the  dew  spangled  over  the  fields ; 
And  the  bah  of  the  sheep  and  the  bawl  of  the  cows 

And  the  call  from  the  house  to  your  meals ! 

Then  ho !  f  er  your  brekf  ast !  and  ho  !  f  er  the  toil 

That  waiteth  alike  man  and  beast ! 
Oh !  it's  soon  with  my  team  I'll  be  turnin'  up  soil, 

Whilse  the  sun  shoulders  up  in  the  East 
68 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Ore  the  tops  of  the  ellums  and  beeches  and  oaks, 
To  smile  his  Godspeed  on  the  plow, 

And  the  furry  and  seed,  and  the  Man  in  his  need, 
And  the  joy  of  the  swet  of  his  brow  1 


Lines  to  Perfesser  John  Clark  Rldpath 


[Cumposed  by  A  Old  Friend  of  the  Fambily  sence  'way 
back  in  the  Forties,  when  they  Settled  nigh  Fillntore,  Put 
nam  County,  this  State,  whare  John  was  borned  and  growed 
up,  you  might  say,  like  the  wayside  flower.] 

YOUR  neghbors  in  the  country,  whare  you  come  from, 
hain't  f ergot  !— 

We  knowed  you  even  better  than  your  own-self,  like  as  not. 
We  profissied  your  runnin'-geers  'ud  stand  a  soggy  load 
And  pull  her,  purty  stiddy,  up  a  mighty  rocky  road : 
We  been  a-watchin'  your  career  sence  you  could  write  your 

name — 
But  way  you  writ  it  first,  I'll  say,  was  jest  a  burnin' 

shame  !— 
Your    "J.    C."    in    the   copy-book,   and    "Ridpath" — mercy- 

sakes ! — 
Quiled  up  and  tide  in  dubble  bows,  lookt  like  a  nest  o' 

snakes ! — 

But  you  could  read  it,  I  suppose,  and  kindo'  gloted  on 
A-bein'  "/.  C.  Ridpath"  when  we  only  called  you  "John." 
69 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

But  you'd  work's  well  as  fool,  and  what  you  had  to  do  was 

done : 
We've  watched  you  at  the  wood-pile — not  the  wood-shed — 

wasent  none, — 
And   snow  and  sleet,  and  haulin',   too,  and   lookin*  after 

stock, 
And  milkin',  nights,  and  feedin*  pigs, — then  turnin'  back  the 

clock, 

So's  you  could  set  up  studyin'  your  'Rethmatic,  and  fool 
Your  Parents,  whilse  a-piratin'  your  way  through  winter 

school  I 
And  I've  heerd  tell — from  your  own  folks — you've  set  and 

baked  your  face 

A-readin'  Plutark  Slives  all  night  by  that  old  fi-er-place. — 
Yit,  'bout  them  times,  the  blackboard,  onc't,  had  on  it,  I 

tf^-clare, 
"Yours  truly,  /.  Clark  Ridpath."— And  the  teacher— left 

it  thare ! 

And  they  was  other  symptums,  too,  that  pinted,  plane  as 

day, 

To  nothin'  short  of  College! — and  one  was  the  lovin'  way 
Your   mother   had   of   cheerin'   you   to   efforts   brave   and 

strong, 

And  puttin'  more  faith  in  you,  as  you  needed  it  along : 
She'd  pat  you  on  the  shoulder,  er  she'd  grab  you  by  the 

hands, 
And  laugh  sometimes,  er  cry  sometimes. — They's  few  that 

understands 
Jest  what  theyr  mother's  drivin'  at  when  they  act  that- 

away ; — ' 
But  I'll  say  this  fer  you,  John-Clark, — you  answered,  night 

and  day, 

7Q 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

To  ev'ry  trust  and  hope  of  hers — and  half  your  College 

fame 
Was  battled  fer  and  won  fer  her  and  glory  of  her  name. 

The  likes  of  you  at  College!    But  you  went  thare.    How 

you  paid 
Your   way  nobody's   astin' — but  you   worked, — you   hain't 

afraid, — 

Your  clothes  was,  more'n  likely,  kindo'  out  o'  style,  perhaps, 
And   not  as   snug  and   warm   as   some  'at  hid  the  other 

chaps ; — 
But  when  it  come  to  Intullect — they  tell  me  yourn  was 

dressed 

A  leetle  mite  siipcrber-like  than  any  of  the  rest! 
And  there  you  stayed — and  thare  you've  made  your  rickord, 

fare  and  square — 
Tel  now  it's  Fame  'at  writes  your  name,  approving  ev'ry- 

whare — 
Not  jibblets  of  it,  nuther,— but  all  John  Clark  Ridpath, 

set 
Plum  at  the  dashboard  of  the  whole-endurin'  Alfabet ! 


J7  Us. Farmers  in  the  Country 

US   farmers  in  the  country,  as  the  seasons  go  and 
come, 

Is  purty  much  like  other  folks, — we're  apt  to  grumble  some  ! 
The  Spring's  too  back'ard  fer  us,  er  too  for'ard — ary  one — 
We'll  jaw  about  it  anyhow,  and  have  our  way  er  none! 

71 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

The  thaw's  set  in  too  suddent;  er  the  frost's  stayed  in  the 

soil 
Too  long  to  give  the  wheat  a  chance,  and  crops  is  bound  to 

spoil. 
The  weather's  eether  most  too  mild,  er  too  outrageous 

rough, 
And  altogether  too  much  rain,  er  not  half  rain  enugh ! 

Now  what  I'd  like  and  what  you'd  like  is  plane  enugh  to 

see: 

It's  jest  to  have  old  Providence  drop  round  on  you  and  me 
And  ast  us  what  our  views  is  first,  regardin'  shine  er  rain, 
And  post  'em  when  to  shet  her  off,  er  let  her  on  again ! 
And  yit  I'd  ruther,  after  all — consider'n'  other  chores 
I'  got  on  hands,  a-tendin*  both  to  my  affares  and  yours — 
I'd  ruther  miss  the  blame  I'd  git,  a-rulin*  things  up  thare, 
And  spend  my  extry  time  in  praise  and  gratitude  and 

prayer. 


AFTERWHILES 


A  Rome-Made  Fairy  Tale 

BUD,  come  here  to  your  uncle  a  spell, 
And  I'll  tell  you  something  you  mustn't  tell- 
For  it's  a  secret  and  shore-'nuf  true, 
And  maybe  I  oughtn't  to  tell  it  to  you  !— 
But  out  in  the  garden,  under  the  shade 
Of  the  apple-trees,  where  we  romped  and  played 
Til!  the  moon  was  up,  and  you  thought  I'd  gone 
Fast  asleep,— That  was  all  put  on ! 
For  I  was  a-watchin'  something  queer 
Coin'  on  there  in  the  grass,  my  dear ! — 
'Way  down  deep  in  it,  there  I  see 
A  little  dude-Fairy  who  winked  at  me, 
And  snapped  his  fingers,  and  laughed  as  low 
And  fine  as  the  whine  of  a  mus-kee-to ! 
I  kept  still — watchin'  him  closer — and 
I  noticed  a  little  guitar  in  his  hand, 
Which  he  leant  'g'hist  a  little  dead  bee — and  laid 
His  cigarette  down  on  a  clean  grass-blade, 
And  then  climbed  up  on  the  shell  of  a  snail— 
Carefully  dusting  his  swallowtail— 
And  pulling  up,  by  a  waxed  web-thread, 
This  little  guitar,  you  remember,  I  said ! 
And  there  he  trinkled  and  thrilled  a  tune, — 
"My  Love,  so  Fair,  Tans  in  the  Moon !" 
Till,  presently,  out  of  the  clover-top 
He  seemed  to  be  singing  to,  came,  k'pop  I 

73 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

The  purtiest,  dainties*  Fairy  face 

In  all  this  world,  or  any  place ! 

Then  the  little  ser'nader  waved  his  hand, 

As  much  as  to  say,  "We'll  excuse  you!"  and 

I  heard,  as  I  squinted  my  eyelids  to, 

A  kiss  like  the  drip  of  a  drop  of  dew! 


X 


jp  Old-Fashioned  Roses 

THEY  ain't  no  style  about  'em, 
And  they're  sort  o'  pale  and  faded, 
Yit  the  doorway  here,  without  'em, 
Would  be  lonesomer,  and  shaded 
With  a  good  'eal  blacker  shadder 

Than  the  morning-glories  makes, 

And  the  sunshine  would  look  sadder 

Per  their  good  old-fashion'  sakes. 

I  like  'em  'cause  they  kind  o' 

Sort  o'  make  a  feller  like  'em  ! 
And  I  tell  you,  when  I  find  a 

Bunch  out  whur  the  sun  kin  strike  'em,  ' 
It  allus  sets  me  thinkin' 

O'  the  ones  'at  used  to  grow 
And  peek  in  thro*  the  chinkin* 
O'  the  cabin,  don't  you  know ! 

And  then  I  think  o'  mother, 
And  how  she  ust  to  love  'em — 

When  they  wuzn't  any  other, 

'Less  she  found  'em  up  above  'em! 
74 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  her  eyes,  afore  she  shut  'em, 
Whispered  with  a  smile  and  said 

We  must  pick  a  bunch  and  putt  'em 
In  her  hand  when  she  wuz  dead. 

But,  as  I  wuz  a-sayin', 

They  ain't  no  style  about  'em 
Very  gaudy  er  displayin', 

But  I  wouldn't  be  without  'em — 
'Cause  I'm  happier  in  these  posies, 

And  the  hollyhawks  and  sich, 
Than  the  hummin'-bird  'at  noses 
In  the  roses  of  the  rich. 


40  Griggsby's  Station 

PAP'S  got  his  pattent-right,  and  rich  as  all  creation ; 
But  where's  the  peace  and  comfort  that  we  all  had 

before? 

Lc's  go  a-visitin'  back  to  Griggsby's  Station — 
Back  where  we  ust  to  be  so  happy  and  so  pore ! 

The  likes  of  us  a-livin'  here !    It's  jest  a  mortal  pity 

To  see  us  in  this  great  big  house,  with  cyarpets  on  the 

stairs, 
And  the  pump  right  in  the  kitchen!     And  the  city!  city! 

city!— 
And  nothin'  but  the  city  all  around  us  ever'wheres ! 


75 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Climb  clean  above  the  roof  and  look  from  the  steeple, 
And  never  see  a  robin,  nor  a  beech  or  ellum  tree ! 

And  right  here  in  ear-shot  of  at  least  a  thousan'  people, 
And  none  that  neighbors  with  us  or  we  want  to  go  and 
see! 

Le's  go  a-visitin'  back  to  Griggsby's  Station — 

Back  where  the  latch-string's  a-hangin*  from  the  door, 

And  ever'  neighbor  round  the  place  is  dear  as  a  relation- 
Back  where  we  ust  to  be  so  happy  and  so  pore ! 

I  want  to  see  the  Wiggenses,  the  whole  kit-and-bilin', 
A-drivin'  up  from  Shallor  Ford  to  stay  the  Sunday 

through ; 
And  I  want  to  see  'em  hitchin*  at  their  son-in-law's  and 

pilin* 
Out  there  at  'Lizy  Ellen's  like  they  ust  to  do ! 

I  want  to  see  the  piece-quilts  the  Jones  girls  is  makin' ; 
And  I  want  to  pester  Laury  'bout  their  freckled  hired 

hand, 
And  joke  her  'bout  the  widower  she  come  purt'  nigh 

a-takin', 

Till  her  Pap  got  his  pension  'lowed  in  time  to  save  his 
land. 

Le's  go  a-visitin'  back  to  Griggsby's  Station — 
Back  where  they's  nothin'  aggervatin'  any  more, 

Shet  away  safe  in  the  woods  around  the  old  location — 
Back  where  we  ust  to  be  so  happy  and  so  pore  I 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

1  want  to  see  Marindy  and  he'p  her  with  her  sewin', 

And  hear  her  talk  so  lovin'  of  her  man  that's  dead  and 

gone, 

And  stand  up  with  Emanuel  to  show  me  how  he's  growin', 
And  smile  as  I  have  saw  her  'fore  she  putt  her  mournin' 
on. 

And  I  want  to  see  the  -Samples,  on  the  old  lower  eighty, 
Where  John,  our  oldest  boy,  he'was  tuk  and  hurried— for 

His  own  sake  and  Katy's— and  I  want  to  cry  with  Katy 
As  she  reads  all  his  letters  over,  writ  from  The  War. 

, '  ,,-:-  lib  ?^t-r.'\-A  «3tlj  eA  A 

What's  in  all  this  grand  life  and  high  situation, 

And  nary  pink  nor  hollyhawk  a-bloomin'  at  the  door  ?— 

Le's  go  a-visitin'  back  to  Griggsby's  Station- 
Back  where  we  ust  to  be  so  happy  and  so  pore ! 


Knee-Deep  in  June 


TELL  you  what  I  like  the  best— 
'Long  about  knee-deep  in  June, 
'Bout  the  time  strawberries  melts 
On  the  vine, — some  afternoon 
Like  to  j  es'  git  out  and  rest, 

And  not  work  at  nothin*  else ! 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


Orchard's  where  I'd  ruther  be — 
Needn't  fence  it  in  f er  me ! — 

Jes'  the  whole  sky  overhead, 
And  the  whole  airth  underneath—* 
Sort  o'  so's  a  man  kin  breathe 

Like  he  ort,  and  kind  o'  has 
Elbow-room  to  keerlessly 

Sprawl  out  len'thways  on  the  grass 
Where  the  shadders  thick  and  soft 

As  the  kivvers  on  the  bed 

Mother  fixes  in  the  loft 
Allus,  when  they's  company  1 


in 


Jes'  a-sort  o'  lazin'  there — 
S'lazy,  'at  you  peek  and  peer 
Through  the  wavin*  leaves  above, 
Like  a  feller  'at's  in  love 
And  don't  know  it,  ner  don't  keer ! 
Ever'thing  you  hear  and  see 
Got  some  sort  o'  interest — 
Maybe  find  a  bluebird's  nest 
Tucked  up  there  conveenently 
Fer  the  boy  'at's  ap'  to  be 
Up  some  other  apple-tree ! 
Watch  the  swallers  skootin'  past 
'Bout  as  peert  as  you  could  ast ; 
Er  the  Bob-white  raise  and  whiz 
Where  some  other's  whistle  is. 
78 


THE   HOOSIER    BOOK 
IV 

Ketch  a  shadder  down  below, 
And  look  up  to  find  the  crow — 
Er  a  hawk, — away  up  there, 
Tearantly  jroze  in  the  air  !— 

Hear  the  old  hen  squawk,  and  squat 

Over  ever'  chick  she's  got, 
Suddent-like  ! — and  she  knows  where 

That-air  hawk  is,  well  as  you ! — 

You  jes'  bet  yer  life  she  do! — 
Eyes  a-glitterin'  like  glass, 
Waitin'  till  he  makes  a  pass ! 


Fee-wees'  singin',  to  express 

My  opinion,  's  second  class, 
Yit  you'll  hear  'em  more  er  less ; 
Sapsucks  gittin'  down  to  biz, 
Weedin'  out  the  lonesomeness  ; 
Mr.  Bluejay,  full  o'  sass, 

In  them  base-ball  clothes  o*  hcs, 
Sportin'  round  the  orchard  jes' 
Like  he  owned  the  premises ! 

Sun  out  in  the  fields  kin  sizz, 
But  flat  on  yer  back,  I  guess, 

In  the  shade's  where  glory  is ! 
That's  jes'  what  I'd  like  to  do 
Stiddy  f er  a  year  er  two ! 


79 


THE  HOOSIER   BOOK 

VI 

Plague !  ef  they  ain't  somepin'  in 
Work  'at  kind  o'  goes  ag'in' 
My  convictions ! — 'long  about 
Here  in  June  especially ! — 
Under  some  old  apple-tree, 

Jes'  a-restin'  through  and  through,, 
I  could  git  along  without 
Nothin'  else  at  all  to  do 
Only  jes'  a-wishin*  you 
Wuz  a-gittin'  there  like  me, 
And  June  was  eternity ! 


VII 


Lay  out  there  and  try  to  see 
Jes'  how  lazy  you  kin  be ! — 

Tumble  round  and  souse  yer  head 
In  the  clover-bloom,  er  pull 

Yer  straw  hat  acrost  yer  eyes 
And  peek  through  it  at  the  skies, 
Thinkin'  of  old  chums  'at's  dead, 

Maybe,  smilin'  back  at  you 
In  betwixt  the  beautiful 

Clouds  o*  gold  and  white  and  blue!- 
Month  a  man  kin  railly  love — 
June,  you  know,  I'm  talkin*  of ! 


So 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

VIII 

March  ain't  never  nothin*  new  !— 
Aprile's  altogether  too 

Brash  fer  me!  and  May— I  jes' 
'Bominate  its  promises,— 
Little  hints  o'  sunshine  and 
Green  around  the  timber-land— 
A  few  blossoms,  and  a  few 
Chip-birds,  and  a  sprout  er  two, — 
>.fb  Drap  asleep,  and  it  turns  in 

'Fore  daylight  and  snows  ag'in  !— 
But  when  June  comes— Clear  my  th'oat 

With  wild  honey !— Rench  my  hair 
In  the  dew !  and  hold  my  coat ! 

Whoop  out  loud !  and  th'ow  my  hat  !- 
June  wants  me,  and  I'm  to  spare! 
Spread  them  shadders  anywhere, 
I'll  git  down  and  waller  there, 
And  obleeged  to  you  at  that ! 


42        When  the  Hearse  Comes  Back 

\  THING  'at's  'bout  as  tryin'  as  a  healthy  man  kin  meet 
/\  Is  some  poor  feller's  funeral  a-joggin'  'long  the  street : 
The  slow  hearse  and  the  hosses— slow  enough,  to  say  the 

least, 

Fer  to  even  tax  the  patience  of  the  gentleman  deceased ! 
The  low  scrunch  of  the  gravel— and  the  slow  grind  of  the 

wheels, — 
The  slow,  slow  go  of  ev'ry  woe  'at  ev'rybody  feels ! 

81 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

So  I  ruther  like  the  contrast  when  I  hear  the  whip-lash 

crack 
A  quickstep  fer  the  hosses, 

When  the 

Hearse 

Comes 

Back! 

Meet  it  goin'  to'ards  the  cimet'ry,  you'll  want  to  clrap  yer 

eyes — 

But  ef  the  plumes  don't  fetch  you,  it'll  ketch  you  other 
wise — 

You'll  haf  to  see  the  caskit,  though  you'd  ort  to  look  away 
And  'conomize  and  save  yer  sighs  fer  any  other  day  I 
Yer  sympathizin'  won't  wake  up  the  sleeper  from  his  rest — 
Yer  tears  won't  thaw  them  hands  o'  his  'at's  froze  acrost 

his  hreast! 
And  this  is  why — when  airth  and  sky's  a-gittin'  blurred  and 

black— 
I  like  the  flash  and  hurry 

When  the 

Hearse 

Comes 

Back! 

It's  not  'cause  I  don't  'predate  it  ain't  no  time  fer  jokes, 
Ner  'cause  I'  got  no  common  human  f eelin'  fer  the  folks  ; — 
I've  went  to  funerals  mys'ef,  and  tuk  on  some,  perhaps — 
Fer  my  heart's  'bout  as  mal'able  as  any  other  chap's, — 
I've  buried  father,  mother — But  I'll  haf  to  jes'  git  you 
To  "excuse  me"  as  the  feller  says. — The  p'int  I'm  drivin'  to 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Is,  simply,  when  we're  plum  broke  down  and  all  knocked 

out  o'  whack, 
It  he'ps  to  shape  us  up,  like, 

When  the 

Hearse 

Comes 

Back! 

The  idy !  wadin'  round  here  over  shoe-mouth  deep  in  woe, 
When  they's  a  graded  'pike  o'  joy  and  sunshine,  don't  you 

know ! 
When  evening  strikes  the  pastur',  cows'll  pull  out  fer  the 

bars, 
And  skittish-like  from  out  the  night'll  prance  the  happy 

stars. 

And  so  when  my  time  comes  to  die,  and  I've  got  ary  friend 
'At  wants  expressed  my  last  request — I'll,  mebby,  rickom- 

mend 

To  drive  slow,  ef  they  haf  to,  goin'  'long  the  out'ard  track, 
But  I'll  smile  and  say,  "You  speed  'em 
When  the 

Hearse 

Comes 

Back !" 


A  Canary  at  the  Farm 

FOLKS  has  be'n  to  town,  and  Sahry 
Fetched  'er  home  a  pet  canary, — 
And  of  all  the  blame',  contrary, 
Aggervatin'  things  alive! 

83 


THE  HOOSIER   BOOK 

I  love  music — that's  I  love  it 
When  it's  free — and  plenty  of  it;— 
But  I  kindo'  git  above  it, 
At  a  dollar-eighty-five ! 

Reason's  plain  as  I'm  a-sayin%-^ 
Jes*  the  idy,  now,  o'  layin* 
Out  yer  money,  and  a-payin* 

Fer  a  wilier-cage  and  bird, 
When  the  medder-larks  is  wingin* 
Round  you,  and  the  woods  is  ringin9 
With  the  beautifullest  singin' 

That  a  mortal  ever  heard ! 

Sahry's  sot,  tho'.— So  I  tell  her 

He's  a  purty  little  feller, 

With  his  wings  o*  creamy-yeller, 

And  his  eyes  keen  as  a  cat; 
And  the  twitter  o'  the  critter 
'Pears  to  absolutely  glitter ! 
Guess  I'll  haf  to  go  and  git  her 

A  high-priceter  cage  'n  that! 


A  Liz-Town  Humorist 

O  ETTIN'  round  the  stove,  last  night, 

^-^      Down  at  Wess's  store,  was  me 

And  Mart  Strimples,  Tunk,  and  White, 

And  Doc  Bills,  and  two  er  three 

Fellers  o'  the  Mudsock  tribe 

No  use  tryin*  to  describe ! 

And  says  Doc,  he  says,  says  he, — • 

84 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

"Talkin*  'bout  good  things  to  eat, 
Ripe  mushmillon's  hard  to  beat !" 

I  chawed  on.    And  Mart  he  'lowed 
Wortermillon  beat  the  mush. — 
"Red,"  he  says,  "and  juicy— Hush!— 
I'll  jes'  leave  it  to  the  crowd !" 
Then  a  Mudsock  chap,  says  he, — 
"Punkin's  good  enough  fer  me — 
Punkin  pies,  I  mean,"  he  says, — 
"Them  beats  trillions !— What  say,  Wess  T' 

I  chawed  on.    And  Wess  says, — "Well, 

You  jes'  fetch  that  wife  of  mine 

All  yer  wortermillon-nw^ — 

And  she'll  bile  it  down  a  spell — 

In  with  sorghum,  I  suppose, 

And  what  else,  Lord  only  knows ! — • 

But  I'm  here  to  tell  all  hands 

Them  p'serves  meets  my  demands !" 

I  chawed  on.     And  White  he  says, — > 
"Well,  I'll  jes'  stand  in  with  Wess— 
I'm  no  hog !"    And  Tunk  says, — "I 
Guess  I'll  pastur'  out  on  pie 
With  the  Mudsock  boys !"  says  he ; 
"Now  what's  yourn  ?"  he  says  to  me : 
I  chawed  on — fer — quite  a  spell — 
Then  I  speaks  up,  slow  and  dry,' — 
"Jes'  tobacker !"  I-says-I. — 
And  you'd  ort  o'  heerd  'em  yell ! 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


Kingry's  Mill 

ON  old  Brandywine — about 
Where  White's  Lots  is  now  laid  ou 
And  the  old  crick  narries  down 
To  the  ditch  that  splits  the  town,— 
Kingry's  Mill  stood.     Hardly  see 
Where  the  old  dam  ust  to  be ; 
Shallor,  long,  dry  trought  o'  grass 
Where  the  old  race  ust  to  pass ! 

That's  be'n  forty  years  ago — 
Forty  years  o'  frost  and.  snow — 
Forty  years  o'  shade  and  shine 
Sence  them  boyhood-days  o'  mine ! — 
All  the  old  landmarks  o'  town 
Changed  about,  er  rotted  down ! 
Where's  the  Tanyard?    Where's  the  Still? 
Tell  me  where's  old  Kingry's  Mill? 

Don't  seem  furder  back,  to  me, 

I'll  be  dogg'd !  than  yisterd'y, 

Since  us  fellers,  in  bare  feet 

And  straw  hats,  went  through  the  wheat 

Cuttin'  'crost  the  shortest  shoot 

Fer  that-air  old  ellum  root 

Jest  above  the  mill-dam — where 

The  blame'  cars  now  crosses  there ! 


86 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Through  the  willers  down  the  crick 
We  could  see  the  old  mill  stick 
Its  red  gable  up,  as  if 
It  jest  knowed  we'd  stol'd  the  skiff! 
See  the  winders  in  the  sun 
Blink  like  they  wuz  wunderun' 
What  the  miller  ort  to  do 
With  sich  boys  as  me  and  you ! 

But  old  Kingry ! — who  could  fear 
That  old  chap,  with  all  his  cheer?— 
Leanin'  at  the  winder-sill, 
Er  the  half-door  o'  the  mill, 
Swappin'  lies,  and  pokin'  fun, 
'N'  jigglin*  like  his  hoppers  done — 
Laughin'  grists  o'  gold  and  red 
Right  out  o'  the  wagon-bed ! 

What  did  he  keer  where  we  went?-— 
"Jest  keep  out  o'  devilment, 
And  don't  fool  around  the  belts, 
Bolts,  ner  burrs,  ner  nothin'  else 
'Bout  the  blame  machinery, 
And  that's  all  I  ast !"  says-ee. 
Then  we'd  climb  the  stairs,  and  play 
In  the  bran-bins  half  the  day! 

Rickollect  the  dusty  wall, 
And  the  spider-webs,  and  all ! 
Rickollect  the  trimblin'  spout 
Where  the  meal  come  josslin'  out— 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

Stand  and  comb  yer  fingers  through 
The  fool-truck  an  hour  er  two- 
Felt  so  sort  o'  warm-like  and. 
Soothin'  to  a  feller's  hand ! 

Climb,  high  up  above  the  stream, 
And  "coon"  out  the  wobbly  beam 
And  peek  down  from  out  the  lof 
Where  the  weather-boards  was  off- 
Gee-mun-nee!  w'y,  it  takes  grit 
Even  jest  to  think  of  it!— 
Lookin'  way  down  there  below 
On  the  worter  roarin'  so ! 

Rickollect  the  flume,  and  wheel, 
And  the  worter  slosh  and  reel 
And  jest  ravel  out  in  froth 
Flossier'n  satin  cloth! 
Rickollect  them  paddles  jest 
Knock  the  bubbles  galley-west, 
And  plunge  under,  and  come  up, 
Drippin'  like  a  worter-pup ! 

And,  to  see  them  old  things  gone 
That  I  onc't  was  bettin'  on, 
In  rale  p'int  o'  fact,  I  feel 
Kind  o'  like  that  worter-wheel,— 
Sort  o'  drippy-like  and  wet 
Round  the  eyes — but  paddlin'  yet, 
And,  in  mem'ry,  loafin'  still 
Down  around  old  Kingry's  Milll 


88 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


46  Joney 

HAD  a  harelip— Joney  had  : 
Spiled  his  looks  and  Joney  knowed  it 
Fellers  tried  to  bore  him,  bad — 
But  ef  ever  he  got  mad, 

He  kep'  still  and  never  showed  it. 
'Druther  have  his  mouth  all  pouted 

And  split  up,  and  like  it  wuz, 
Than  the  ones  'at  laughed  about  it.— 
Purty  is  as  purty  does ! 

Had  to  listen  ruther  clos't 

'Fore  you  knowed  what  he  wuz  givin* 
You ;  and  yet,  without  no  boast, 
Joney  he  wuz  jest  the  most 

Entertainin'  talker  livin' ! 
Take  the  Scriptur's  and  run  through  'em, 

Might  say,  like  a'  auctioneer, 
And  'ud  argy  and  review  'em 

'At  wuz  beautiful  to  hear ! 

Harelip  and  impediment, 

Both  wuz  bad  and  both  ag'in'  him — • 
But  the  old  folks  where  he  went, 
'Feared  like,  knowin'  his  intent, 

'Scused  his  mouth  fer  what  wuz  in  him. 
And  the  childern  all  loved  Joney — 

And  he  loved  'em  back,  you  bet ! — 
Putt  their  arms  around  him — on'y 

None  had  ever  kissed  him  yet! 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

In  young  company,  someway, 

Boys  'ud  grin  at  one  another 
On  the  sly ;  and  girls  'ud  lay 
Low,  with  nothin'  much  to  say, 

Er  leave  Joney  with  their  mother. 
Many  and  many  a  time  he's  fetched  'em 

Candy  by  the  paper-sack, 
And  turned  right  around  and  ketched  'em 

Makin'  mouths  behind  his  back! 

S'prised,  sometimes,  the  slurs  he  took. — 

Chap  said  onc't  his  mouth  looked  sorter 
Like  a  fish's  mouth  'ud  look 
When  he'd  be'n  jerked  off  the  hook 

And  plunked  back  into  the  worter. — 
Same  durn  feller — it's  su'prisin', 

But  it's  facts — 'at  stood  and  cherred 
From  the  bank  that  big  babtizin' 

'Pike-bridge  accident  occurred! — 

Cherred  for  Joney  while  he  give 

Life  to  little  childern  drowndin'l 
Which  wuz  fittenest  to  live — 
Him  'at  cherred,  er  him  'at  div* 

And  saved  thirteen  lives?    .    .    .    They  found  one 
Body,  three  days  later,  floated 

Down  the  by-o,  eight  mile'  south, 
All  so  colored-up  and  bloated — 

On'y  knowed  him  by  his  mouth  1 


9© 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

Had  a  harelip — Joney  bad- 
Folks  'at  filed  apast  all  knowed  it. — • 

Them  'at  ust  to  smile  looked  sad, 

But  ef  he  thought  good  er  bad, 
He  kep'  still  and  never  showed  it. 

'Druther  have  that  mouth,  all  pouted 
And  split  up,  and  like  it  wuz, 

Than  the  ones  'at  laughed  about  it.-^ 
Purty  is  as  purty  does ! 


Granny 

RANNY'S  come  to  our  house, 

And  ho  !  my  lawzy-daisy  ! 
All  the  childern  round  the  place 

Is  ist  a-runnin'  crazy ! 
Fetched  a  cake  f  er  little  Jake, 

And  fetched  a  pie  fer  Nanny, 
And  fetched  a  pear  fer  all  the  pack 
That  runs  to  kiss  their  Granny  1 

Lucy  Ellen's  in  her  lap, 

And  Wade  and  Silas  Walker 
Both's  a-ridin'  on  her  foot, 

And  'Polios  on  the  rocker ; 
And  Marthy's  twins,  from  Aunt  Marinn's, 

And  little  Orphant  Annie, 
All's  a-eatin'  gingerbread 

And  giggle-un  at  Granny  I 

91 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

Tells  us  all  the  fairy  tales 

Ever  thought  er  wundered — 
And  'bundance  o'  other,  stories— -> 

Bet  she  knows  a  hunderd  ! — 
Bob's  the  one  fer  "Whittington," 

And  "Golden  Locks"  fer  Fanny! 
Hear  'em  laugh  and  clap  their  hands, 

Listenin'  at  Granny! 

"Jack  the  Giant-Killer"  's  good; 

And  "Bean-Stalk"  's  another!— 
So's  the  one  of  "Cinderell' " 

And  her  old  godmother ; — 
That-un's  best  of  all  the  rest— 

Bestest  one  of  any, — 
Where  the  mices  scampers  home 

Like  we  runs  to  Granny ! 

Granny's  come  to  our  house, 

Ho  !  my  lawzy-daisy ! 
All  the  childern  round  the  place 

Is  ist  a-runnin'  crazy! 
Fetched  a  cake  fer  little  Jake, 

And  fetched  a  pie  fer  Nanny, 
And  fetched  a  pear  fer  all  the  pack 

That  runs  to  kiss  their  Granny! 


92 


THE  HOOSIER   BOOK 
48  The  Train-Misser 

AT  UNION   STATION 

'TL  where  in  the  world  my  eyes  has  bin—1 
-Lj      Ef  I  hain't  missed  that  train  ag'inl 
Chuff !  and  whistle  !  and  toot !  and  ring ! 
But  blast  and  blister  the  dasted  train ! — 
How  it  does  it  I  can't  explain ! 
Git  here  thirty-five  minutes  before 
The  durn  thing's  due  ! — and,  drat  the  thing! 
It'll  manage  to  git  past — shore  1 

The  more  I  travel  around,  the  more 
I  got  no  sense ! — To  stand  right  here 
And  let  it  beat  me !    'LI  ding  my  melts  1 
I  got  no  gumption,  ner  nothin'  else ! 
Ticket  Agent's  a  dad-burned  bore ! — • 
Sell  you  a  ticket's  all  they  keer  I—* 
Ticket  Agents  ort  to  all  be 
Prosecuted — and  that's  jes'  what! — • 
How'd  I  know  which  train's  fer  me? 
And  how'd  I  know  which  train  was  not?— 
Goern  and  comin'  and  gone  astray, 
And  backin*  and  switchin'  ever'-which-way ! 

Ef  I  could  jes'  sneak  round  behind 
Myse'f,  where  I  could  git  full  swing, 
I'd  lift  my  coat,  and  kick,  by  jing! 
Till  I  jes'  got  jerked  up  and  fined ! — 

•'»"/!  *3 

93 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Fer  here  I  stood,  as  a  durn  fool's  apt 
To,  and  let  that  train  jes'  chuff  and  choo 
Right  apast  me — and  mouth  jes'  gapped 
Like  a  blamed  old  sandwitch  warped  in  two  ! 


49      Like  His  Mother  Used  to  Make 
"UNCLE  JAKE'S  PLACE,"  ST.  jo,  MISSOURI,  1874 


"T  WAS  born  in  Indiany,"  says  a  stranger  lank  and  slim, 
JL     As  us  fellers  in  the  restarunt  was  kind  o'  guyin'  him, 
And  Uncle  Jake  was  slidin*  him  another  punkin  pie 
And  a*  extry  cup  o'  coffee,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye, — 
"I  was  born  in  Indiany — more'n  forty  year'  ago — 
And  I  hain't  be'n  back  in  twenty — and  I'm  workin'  back- 

'ards  slow ; 

But  I've  et  in  ever*  restarunt  'twixt  here  and  Santy  Fee, 
And  I  want  to  state  this  coffee  tastes  like  gittin'  home,  to 

me! 

"Pour  us  out  another,  Daddy,"  says  the  feller,  warmin'  up, 
A-speakin'  'crost  a  saucerful,  as  Uncle  tuk  his  cup, — 
"When  I  seed  yer  sign  out  yander,"  he  went  on,  to  Uncle 

Jake,- 
"  'Come  in  and  git  some  coffee  like  yer  mother  used  to 

make' — 

I  thought  of  my  old  mother,  and  the  Posey  County  farm, 
And  me  a  little  kid  ag'in,  a-hangm'  in  her  arm, 
As  she  set  the  pot  a-bilin',  broke  the  eggs  and  poured  'em 


And  the  feller  kind  o'  halted,  with,  a  trimble  in  his  chin : 

94 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  Uncle  Jake  he  fetched  the  feller's  coffee  back,  and 

stood 

As  solemn,  f  er  a  minute,  as  a'  undertaker  would ; 
Then  he  sort  o'  turned  and  tiptoed  to'rds  the  kitchen  door 

and  nex', 
Here  comes  his  old  wife  out  with  him,  a-rubbin'  of  her 

specs — 
And  she  rushes  fer  the  stranger,  and  she  hollers  out,  "It's 

him! — 
Thank  God  we've  met  him  comin' ! — Don't  you  know  yer 

mother,  Jim?" 
And  the  feller,  as  he  grabbed  her,  says, — "You  bet  I  hain't 

forgot^- 
But,"  wipin'  of  his  eyes,  says  he,  "yer  coffee's  mighty  hotl" 


50  Old  October 


0 


LD  October's  purt'  nigh  gone, 
And  the  frosts  is  comin'  on 
Little  heavier  every  day — 
Like  our  hearts  is  thataway! 
Leaves  is  changin'  overhead 
Back  from  green  to  gray  and  red 
Brown  and  yeller,  with  their  stems 
Loosenin'  on  the  oaks  and  e'ms ; 
And  the  balance  of  the  trees 
Gittin'  balder  every  breeze — 
Like  the  heads  we're  scratchin*  on  1 
Old  October's  purt'  nigh  gone. 

95 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

I  love  Old  October  so, 
I  can't  bear  to  see  her  go — 
Seems  to  me  like  losin'  some 
Old-home  relative  er  chum — 
Tears  like  sort  o'  settin'  by 
Some  old  friend  'at  sigh  by  sigh 
Was  a-passin'  out  o'  sight 
Into  everlastin'  night ! 
Hickernuts  a  feller  hears 
Rattlin'  down  is  more  like  tears 
Drappin*  on  the  leaves  below-^ 
I  love  Old  October  so ! 


Can't  tell  what  it  is  about 
Old  October  knocks  me  out !— 3 
I  sleep  well  enough  at  night — • 
And  the  blamedest  appetite 
Ever  mortal  man  possessed, — 
Last  thing  et,  it  tastes  the  best!— • 
Warnuts,  butternuts,  pawpaws, 
'lies  and  limbers  up  my  jaws 
Fer  raal  service,  sich  as  new 
Pork,  spareribs,  and  sausage,  too.- 
Yit,  fer  all,  they's  somepin'  'bout 
Old  October  knocks  me  out  I 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 
jj  Jim 

HE  was  jes'  a  plain,  ever'-day,  all-round  kind  of  a  jour.. 
Consumpted-lookin' — but  la ! 
The  jokeiest,  wittiest,  story-tellin',  song-singin',  laughin'est 

j  oiliest 

Feller  you  ever  saw ! 
Worked  at  jes'  coarse  work,  but  you  kin  bet  he  was  fin* 

enough  in  his  talk, 
And  his  f eelin's  too ! 
Lordy !  ef  he  was  on'y  back  on  his  bench  ag'in  to-day, 

a-carryin*  on 
Like  he  ust  to  do  1 

Any  shopmate'll  tell  you  there  never  was,  on  top  o'  dirt, 

A  better  f eller'n  Jim ! 
You  want  a  favor,  and  couldn't  git  it  anywheres  else— 

You  could  git  it  o'  him ! 
Most  free-heartedest  man  thataway  in  the  world,  I  guess ! 

Give  up  ever'  nickel  he's  worth — 

And,  ef  you'd  a-wanted  it,  and  named  it  to  him,  and  it  was 
his, 

He'd  'a*  give  you  the  earth ! 

Allus  a-reachin'  out,  Jim  was,  and  a-he'ppin'  some 

Pore  feller  on  to  his  feet — 
He'd  'a'  never  'a'  keered  how  hungry  he  was  hisse'f, 

So's  the  feller  got  somepin'  to  eat\ 
Didn't  make  no  differ'nce  at  all  to  him  how  he  was  dressed, 

He  ust  to  say  to  me, — 

"You  togg  out  a  tramp  purty  comfortable  in  winter-time, 
a-huntin'  a  job, 

And  he'll  git  along!"  says  he. 

97 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Jim  didn't  have,  ner  never  could  git  ahead,  so  overly  much 

O'  this  world's  goods  at  a  time.— 
'Fore  now  I've  saw  him,  more'n  onc't,  lend  a  dollar,  and 

haf  to,  more'n  likely, 
Turn  round  and  borry  a  dime ! 
Mebby  laugh  and  joke  about  it  hisse'f  fer  a  while — then 

jerk  his  coat, 

And  kind  o'  square  his  chin, 

Tie  on  his  apern,  and  squat  hisse'f  on  his  old  shoe-bench, 
And  go  to  peggin'  ag'in ! 

Patientest  feller,  too,  I  reckon,  'at  ever  jes'  natchurly 

Coughed  hisse'f  to  death  ! 

Long  enough  after  his  voice  was  lost  he'd  laugh  in  a  whis 
per  and  say 

He  could  git  ever'thing  but  his  breath — 
"You  fellers,"  he'd  sort  o'  twinkle  his  eyes  and  say, 

"Is  a-pilin'  on  to  me 

A  mighty  big  debt  fer  that-air  little  weak-chested  ghost  o' 
mine  to  pack 

Through  all  Eternity !" 

Now  there  was  a  man  'at  jes'  'peared-like,  to  me, 

'At  ortn't  'a'  never  'a'  died ! 
"But  death  hain't  a-showin'  no  favors,"  the  old  boss  said — 

"On'y  to  Jim!"  and  cried: 

And  Wigger,  who  puts  up  the  best  sewed-work  in  the 
shop — 

Er  the  whole  blame  neighberhood, — 

He  says,  "When  God  made  Jim,  I  bet  you  He  didn't  do 
anything  else  that  day 

But  jes'  set  around  and  feel  good!" 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

52     A  New  Year's  Time  at  Willards's 

i 

THE  HIRED  MAN  TALKS 

HP  HERE'S  old  man  Willards;  an'  his  wife; 
JL       An'  Marg'et — S'repty's  sister; — an' 

There's  me — an'  I'm  the  hired  man ; 
An'  Tomps  McClure,  you  bet  yer  life! 

Well,  now,  old  Willards  hain't  so  bad, 

Considerin'  the  chance  he's  had. 

Of  course,  he's  rich,  an'  sleeps  an'  eats 
Whenever  he's  a  mind  to :    Takes 

An'  leans  back  in  the  Amen-seats 

An*  thanks  the  Lord  fer  all  he  makes. — 

That's  purty  much  all  folks  has  got 

Ag'inst  the  old  man,  like  as  not ! 

But  there's  his  woman — jes'  the  turn 

Of  them-air  two  wild  girls  o'  hern — 
Marg'et  an'  S'repty — allus  in 

Fer  any  cuttin'-up  concern — 
Church  festibals,  and  foolishin' 

Round   Christmas-trees,   an'   New  Year's   sprees- 
Set  up  to  watch  the  Old  Year  go 

An'  New  Year  come — sich  things  as  these ; 
An'  turkey-dinners,  don't  you  know ! 


99 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

S'repty' s  younger,  an'  more  gay, 
An'  purtier,  an'  finer  dressed 
Than  Marg'et  is — but,  lawsy-day ! 
She  hain't  the  independentest ! — 
"Take  care !"  old  Willards  used  to  say, 
"Take  care ! — Let  Marg'et  have  her  way, 
An*  S'repty,  you  go  off  an'  play 
On  your  melodeum  !" — But,  best 

Of  all,  comes  Tomps  !    An*  I'll  be  bound, 
Ef  he  hain't  the  beatin'est 

Young  chap  in  all  the  country  round ! 

Ef  you  knowed  Tomps  you'd  like  him,  shore! 
They  hain't  no  man  on  top  o'  ground 
Walks  into  my  affections  more! — 
An*  all  the  Settlement'll  say 
That  Tomps  was  liked  jes'  thataway 
By  ever'body,  till  he  tuk 

A  shine  to  S'repty  Willards.— Then 
You'd  ort  'o  see  the  old  man  buck 
An*  h'ist  hisse'f,  an'  paw  the  dirt, 

An*  hint  that  "common  workin'-men 
That  didn't  want  their  f eelin's  hurt 

'Ud  better  hunt  fer  'comp'ny'  where 
The  folks  was  pore  an'  didn't  care !" — 
The  pine-blank  facts  is, — the  old  man, 
Last  Christmas  was  a  year  ago, 

Found  out  some  presents  Tomps  had  got 
Fer  S'repty,  an'  hit  made  him  hot — 
Set  down  an'  tuk  his  pen  in  hand 
An*  writ  to  Tomps  an'  told  him  so 


IOQ 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

On  legal  cap,  in  white  an'  black, 
An*  give  him  jes'  to  understand 

"No  Christmas-gifts  o'  'lily  white' 

An'  bear's-ile  could  fix  matters  right/' 

An'  wropped  'em  up  an'  sent  'em  back! 
Well,  S'repty  cried  an'  snuffled  round 

Consid'able.    But  Marg'et  she 
Toed  out  another  sock,  an'  wound 

Her  knittin'  up,  an'  drawed  the  tea, 
An'  then  set  on  the  supper-things, 
An*  went  up  in  the  !o£t  an'  dressed — 
An'  through  it  all  you'd  never  guessed 

What  she  was  up  to !    An'  she  brings 
Her  best  hat  with  her  an'  her  shawl, 
An'  gloves,  an'  redicule,  an'  all, 
An'  injirubbers,  an'  comes  down 
An'  tells  'em  she's  a-goin'  to  town 

To  he'p  the  Christmas  goin's-on 
Her  Church  got  up.    An'  go  she  does — 
The  best  hosswoman  ever  was  ! 

"An'  what'll  WE  do  while  you're  gone  ?'" 
The  old  man  says,  a-tryin'  to  be 
Agreeable.    "Oh!  you?"  says  she,— 
"You  kin  jaw  S'repty,  like  you  did, 
An'  slander  Tomps  !"    An'  off  she  rid ! 

Now,  this  is  all  I'm  goin'  to  tell 
Of  this-here  story — that  is,  I 

Have  done  my  very  level  best 
As  fur  as  this,  an'  here  I  "dwell," 
As  auctioneers  says,  winkin*  sly : 

Hit's  old  man  Willards  tells  the  rest. 

101 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


THE   OLD    MAN   TALKS 

Adzackly  jes'  one  year  ago, 

This  New  Year's  day,  Tomps  comes  to  me — > 
In  my  own  house,  an'  whilse  the  folks 
Was  gittin'  dinner, — an'  he  poke" 
His  nose  right  in,  an'  says.  ->ays  he : 
"I  got  yer  note — an'  re?--i  it  slow! 

You  don't  like  tie,  ner  I  don't  you" 
He  says, — ''we're  even  there,  you  know  I 
But  you've  said,  f  urder,  that  no  gal 
Of  yourn  kin  marry  me,  er  shall, 

An'  I'd  best  shet  off  comin',  too !" 
An*  then  he  says, — "Well,  them's  YOUR  views ;— s 
But,  havin'  talked  with  S'repty,  we 
Have  both  agreed  to  disagree 

With  your  peculiar  notions — some; 
An'  that's  the  reason,  I  refuse 

To  quit  a-comin'  here,  but  come — 
Not  fer  to  threat,  ner  raise  no  skeer 
An'  spile  yer  turkey-dinner  here, — 
But  jes'  fer  S'repty' s  sake,  to  sheer 
Yer  New  Year's.    Shall  I  take  a  cheer  ?>l 


Well,  blame-don !  ef  I  ever  see 
Sich  impidence !     I  couldn't  say 

Not  nary  word  !    But  Mother  she 
Sot  out  a  cheer  fer  Tomps,  an'  they 

Shuk  hands  an'  turnt  their  back  on  me. 

Then  I  riz — mad  as  mad  could  be ! — 

102 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

But  Marg'et  says,— "Now,  Pap  !  you  set 

Right  where  you're  settin' ! — Don't  you  fret ! 
An',  Tomps — you  warm  yer  feet!"  says  she, 

"An'  throw  yer  mitts  an'  comfert  on 

The  bed  there  !  'Where  is  S'repty  gone? — 

The  cabbage  is  a-scortchin' !  Ma, 

Stop  cryin'  there  an'  stir  the  slaw !" 
Well! — what  was  Mother  cryin'  fer? — 

I  half  riz  up — but  Marg'et's  chin 

Hit  squared — an'  I  set  down  ag'in — • 
I  allus  was  afeard  o'  her, 
I  was,  by  jucks !    So  there  I  set, 
Betwixt  a  sinkin'-chill  an'  sweat, 
An'  scuffled  with  my  wrath  an'  shet 
My  teeth  to  mighty  tight,  you  bet ! 

An'  yit,  fer  all  that  I  could  do, 
I  eeched  to  jes'  git  up  an'  whet 

The  carvin'-knife  a  rasp  er  two 

On  Tomps's  ribs — an'  so  would  you ! — • 
Fer  he  had  riz  an'  faced  around, 

An'  stood  there,  smilin',  as  they  brung 
The  turkey  in,  all  stuffed  an'  browned — 

Too  sweet  fer  nose  er  tooth  er  tongue ! 
With  sniffs  o'  sage,  an'  p'r'aps  a  dash 

Of  old  burnt  brandy,  steamin'-hot, 
Mixed  kind  o'  in  with  apple-mash 

An'  mince-meat,  an'  the  Lord  knows  v^at  j 
Nobody  was  a-talkin'  then, 

To  'filiate  any  awk'ardness — 

No  noise  o'  any  kind  but  jes' 
The  rattle  o'  the  dishes  when 
They'd  fetch  'em  in  an'  set  'em  down 

103 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  fix  an*  change  'em  round  an'  round, 

Like  women  does — till  Mother  says, — 
"Vittels  is  ready ;  Abner,  call 

Down  S'repty — she's  up-stairs,  I  guess." — 
And  Marg'et  she  says,  "Ef  you  bawl 
Like  that,  she'll  not  come  down  at  all ! 
Besides,  we  needn't  wait  till  she 
Gits  down !    Here,  Tomps,  set  down  by  me, 

An'  Pap :  say  grace !"     .    .     .     Well,  there  I  was  !- 
What  could  I  do !    I  drapped  my  head 
Behind  my  fists  an'  groaned,  an'  said : — 

"Indulgent  Parent !  in  Thy  cause 

We  bow  the  head  an*  bend  the  knee, 
An*  break  the  bread,  an*  pour  the  wine, 
Feelin'" — (The  stair-door  suddently 
Went  bang!  an'  S'repty  flounced  by  me) — • 
"Feelin',"  I  says,  "this  feast  is  Thine — 

This  New  Year's  feast" — an'  rap-rap-rap! 
Went  Marg'et's  case-knife  on  her  plate — 

An*  next,  I  heerd  a  sasser  drap, — 

Then  I  looked  up,  an',  strange  to  state, 
There  S'repty  set  in  Tomps's  lap — 

An'  huggin'  him,  as  shore  as  fate ! 
An'  Mother  kissin'  him  k-slap ! — 
An'  Marg'et — she  chips  in  to  drap 

The  ruther  peert  remark  to  me : — 

"That  'grace'  o'  yourn,"  she  says,  "won't  'gee' — 

This  hain't  no  'New  Year's  feast,'"  says  she, — 
"This  is  a'  INFAIR-Dinner,  Pap!" 

A.n'  so  it  was  ! — be'n  married  f  er 
]*urt'  nigh  a  week ! — 'Twas  Marg'et  planned 

104 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

The  whole  thing  fer  'em,  through  an'  through. 
I'm  rickonciled ;  an',  understand, 
I  take  things  jes'  as  they  occur, — 

Ef  Marg'et  liked  Tomps,  Tomps  'ud  do  !— 
But  I-says-I,  a-holt  his  hand, — 
"I'm  glad  you  didn't  marry  HER — 
'Cause  Marg'et's  my  guardeen — yes-sir! — 
An'  S'repty's  good  enough  fer  you !" 


Regardin'  Terry  Hut 

SENCE  I  tuk  holt  o'  Gibbses'  Churn 
And  be'n  a-handlin'  the  concern, 
I've  traveled  round  the  grand  old  State 
Of  Indiany,  lots,  o'  late!— 
I've  canvassed  Crawferdsville  and  sweat 
Around  the  town  o'  Layf ayette ; 
I've  saw  a  many  a  County-seat 
I  ust  to  think  was  hard  to  beat : 
At  constant  dreenage  and  expense 
I've  worked  Greencastle  and  Vincennei— ' 
Drapped  out  o'  Putnam  into  Clay, 
Owen,  and  on  down  thataway 
Plum  into  Knox,  on  the  back-track 
Fer  home  ag'in — and  glad  I'm  back ! — 
I've  saw  these  towns,  as  I  say — but 
They's  none  'at  beats  old  Terry  Hut ! 

It's  more'n  likely  you'll  insist 

I  claim  this  'cause  I'm  predjudist, 

105 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Bein'  born'd  here  in  ole  Vygo 

In  sight  o'  Terry  Hut ; — but  no, 

Yer  clean  dead  wrong ! — and  I  maintain 

They's  nary  drap  in  ary  vein 

O'  mine  but  what's  as  free  as  air 

To  jes'  take  issue  with  you  there! — 

'Cause,  boy  and  man,  fer  forty  year, 

I've  argied  ag'inst  livin'  here, 

And  jawed  around  and  traded  lies 

About  our  lack  o'  enterprise, 

And  tuk  and  turned  in  and  agreed 

All  other  towns  was  in  the  lead, 

When — drat  my  melts  ! — they  couldn't  cut 

No  shine  a-tall  with  Terry  Hut ! 

Take,  even,  statesmanship,  and  wit, 

And  ginerel  git-up-and-git, 

Old  Terry  Hut  is  sound  clean  through ! — 

Turn  old  Dick  Thompson  loose,  er  Dan 

For^hees — and  where* s  they  any  man 

Kin  even  hold  a  candle  to 

Their  eloquence  ? — And  where's  as  clean 

A  fi-nan-seer  as  Rile*  McKeen — 

Er  puorer,  in  his  daily  walk, 

In  railroad  er  in  racin'  stock ! 

And  there's  'Gene  Debs — a  man  'at  stands 

And  jes'  holds  out  in  his  two  hands 

As  warm  a  heart  as  ever  beat 

Betwixt  here  and  the  Jedgment  Seat  !— 

All  these  is  reasons  why  I  putt 

Sich  bulk  o'  faith  in  Terry  Hut. 


106 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

So  I've  come  back,  with  eyes  'at  sees 
My  faults,  at  last, — to  make  my  peace 
With  this  old  place,  and  truthful'  swear — 
Like  Gineral  Tom  Nelson  does, — 
"They  hain't  no  city  anywhere 
On  God's  green  earth  lays  over  us !" 
Our  city  government  is  grand — 
"Ner  is  they  better  farmin'-land 
Sun-kissed" — as  Tom  goes  on  and  says — 
"Er  dower'd  with  sich  advantages  I" 
And  I've  come  back,  with  welcome  tread, 
From  journeyin's  vain,  as  I  have  said, 
To  settle  down  in  ca'm  content, 
And  cuss  the  towns  where  I  have  went, 
And  brag  on  ourn,  and  boast  and  strut 
Around  the  streets  o'  Terry  Hut! 


4  Down  on  Wriggle  Crick 

Best  time  to  kill  a  hog's  when  he's  fat." — OLD  SAW. 

MOSTLY,  folks  is  law-abidin' 
Down  on  Wriggle  Crick, — 
Seein'  they's  no  Squire  residin* 

In  our  bailywick ; 
No  grand  juries,  no  suppeem'es, 
Ner  no  vested  rights  to  pick 
Out  yer  man,  jerk  up  and  jail  ef 
He's  outragin'  Wriggle  Crick! 

107 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Wriggle  Crick  hain't  got  no  lawin', 

Ner  no  suits  to  beat ; 
Ner  no  court-house  gee-and-hawin' 

Like  a  County-seat; 
Hain't  no  waitin'  round  f  er  verdicks, 

Ner  non-gittin'  witness-fees ; 
Ner  no  thiefs  'at  gits  "new  hearin's," 

By  some  lawyer  slick  as  grease ! 

Wriggle  Crick's  leadin'  spirit 

Is  old  Johnts  Culwell, — 
Keeps  post-office,  and  right  near  it 

Owns  what's  called  "The  Grand  Hotel"— 
(Warehouse  now) — buys  wheat  and  ships  it: 

Gits  out  ties,  and  trades  in  stock, 
And  knows  all  the  high-toned  drummers 

'Twixt  South  Bend  and  Mishawauk. 

Last  year  comes  along  a  feller — 

Sharper  'an  a  lance — 
Stovepipe-hat  and  silk  umbreller, 

And  a  boughten  all-wool  pants, — 
Tinkerin'  of  clocks  and  'watches ; 

Says  a  trial's  all  he  wants — 
And  rents  out  the  tavern-office 

Next  to  Uncle  Johnts. 

Well.— He  tacked  up  his  k'dentials, 

And  got  down  to  biz. — 
Captured  Johnts  by  cuttin'  stenchils 

Fer  them  old  wheat-sacks  o'  his.-—* 


108 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Fixed  his  clock,  in  the  post-office — • 
Painted  fer  him,  clean  and  slick, 

'Crost  his  safe,  in  gold-leaf  letters, 
"J.  Culwell's,  Wriggle  Crick." 

Any  kind  o'  job  you  keered  to 

Resk  him  with,  and  bring, 
He'd  fix  fer  you — jes'  appeared  to 

Turn  his  hand  to  anything ! — 
Rings,  er  earbobs,  er  umbrellers — 

Glue  a  cheer  er  chany  doll, — 
W'y,  of  all  the  beatin'  fellers, 

He  jes'  beat  'em  all! 

Made  his  friends,  but  wouldn't  stop  there,— e. 

One  mistake  he  learnt, 
That  was,  sleepin'  in  his  shop  there. — 

And  one  Sund'y  night  it  burnt ! 
Come  in  one  o'  jes'  a-sweepin' 

All  the  whole  town  high  and  dry — 
And  that  feller,  when  they  waked  him, 

Suffocatin',  mighty  nigh ! 

Johnts  he  drug  him  from  the  buildin', 

He'pless — 'peared  to  be, — 
And  the  women  and  the  childern 

Drenchin'  him  with  sympathy! 
But  I  noticed  Johnts  helt  on  him 

With  a'  extry  lovin'  grip, 
And  the  men-folks  gathered  round  him 

In  most  warmest  pardnership ! 
•i^l  i!r:iM.«rrj  ^hiw:.zi  ilorffi^T  '••  nv/uT  slMil^rf 

109 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

That's  the  whole  mess,  grease-and-dopin' ! 

Johnts's  safe  was  saved — 
But  the  lock  was  found  sprung  open, 

And  the  inside  caved. 
Was  no  trial — ner  no  jury— 

Ner  no  jedge  ner  court-house-click.— 
Circumstances  alters  cases 

Down  on  Wriggle  Crick ! 


55  The  Little  Town  o'  Tailholt 

YOU  kin  boast  about  yer  cities,  and  their  stiddy  growth 
and  size, 

And  brag  about  yer  County-seats,  and  business  enterprise, 
And  railroads,  and  factories,  and  all  sich  foolery — • 
But  the  little  Town  o'  Tailholt  is  big  enough  f er  me ! 

You  kin  harp  about  yer  churches,  with  their  steeples  in  the 

clouds, 
And  gas  about  yer  graded  streets,  and  blow  about  yer 

crowds ; 
You  kin  talk  about  yer  "Waters,"  and  all  you've  got  to 

see — 
But  the  little  Town  o'  Tailholt  is  show  enough  f  er  me ! 

They  hain't  no  style  in  our  town — hit's  little-like  and 

small — 
They  hain't  no  "churches,"  nuther, — jes'  the  meetin'-house 

is  all ; 
They's  no  sidewalks,  to  speak  of — but  the  highway's  allus 

free, 

And  the" little  Town  o'  Tailholt  is  wide  enough  fer  me! 
no 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Some  find  it  discommodin'-like,  I'm  willing  to  admit, 
To  hev  but  one  post-office,  and  a  womern  keepin'  hit, 
And  the  drug-store,  and  shoe-shop,  and  grocery,  all  three — 
But  the  little  Town  o'  Tailholt  is  handy  'nough  fer  me ! 

You  kin  smile  and  turn  yer  nose  up,  and  joke  and  hev  yer 

fun, 

And  laugh  and  holler  "Tail-holts  is  better  holts'n  none !" 
Ef  the  city  suits  you  better,  w'y,  hit's  where  you'd  ort'o 

be- 
But  the  little  Town  o'  Tailholt's  good  enough  fer  me ! 


56  Little  Orphant  Annie 

E'TTLE  Orphant  Annie's  come  to  our  house  to  stay, 
An'   wash   the   cups   an'    saucers   up,   an'   brush  the 

crumbs  away, 
An'  shoo  the  chickens  off  the  porch,  an'  dust  the  hearth,  an' 

sweep, 
An*  make  the  fire,  an'  bake  the  bread,  an'  earn  her  board- 

an'-keep ; 

An'  all  us  other  childern,  when  the  supper  things  is  done, 
We  set  around  the  kitchen  fire  an'  has  the  mostest  fun 
A-list'nin'  to  the  witch-tales  'at  Annie  tells  about, 
An'  the  Gobble-uns  'at  gits  you 
Ef  you 
Don't 

Watch 
Out! 

Ill 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Wunst  they  wuz  a  little  boy  wouldn't  say  his  prayers, — 

An'  when  he  went  to  bed  at  night,  away  up-stairs, 

His  Mammy  heerd  him  holler,  an'  his  Daddy  heerd  him 

bawl, 
An*  when  they  turn't  the  kivvers  down,  he  wuzn't  there  at 

all! 
An*  they  seeked  him  in  the  rafter-room,  an'  cubby-hole,  an' 

press, 
An'   seeked   him   up   the  chimbly-flue,    an'   ever'wheres,    I 

guess ; 

But  all  they  ever  found  wuz  thist  his  pants  an*  round 
about  : — 

An'  the  Gobble-uns  '11  git  you 
Ef  you 
Don't 

Watch. 
Out! 

<\n'  one  time  a  little  girl  'ud  allus  laugh  and  grin, 

An'  make  fun  of  ever'one,  an'  all  her  blood-an'-kin ; 

An'  wunst,  when  they  was  "company,"  an'  ole  folks  wuz 

there, 

She  mocked  'em  an'  shocked  'em,  an*  said  she  didn't  care ! 
An'  thist  as  she  kicked  her  heels,  an'  turn't  to  run  an'  hide, 
They  wuz  two  great  big  Black  Things  a-standin'  by  her 

side, 
An'  they  snatched  her  through  the  ceilin'  'fore  she  knowed 

what  she's  about! 
An'  the  Gobble-uns  '11  git  you 
Ef  you 
Don't 

Watch 
Out! 

112 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

An'  little  Orphant  Annie  says,  when  the  blaze  is  blue, 
An' the  lamp-wick  sputters,  an'  the  wind  goes  woo-oo! 
An'  you  hear  the  crickets  quit,  an'  the  moon  is  gray, 
An'  the  lightnin'-bugs  in  dew  is  all  squenched  away,— 
You  better  mind  yer  parunts,  an'  yer  teachurs  fond  an'  dear, 
An'  churish  them  'at  loves  you,  an'  dry  the  orphant's  tear, 
An'  he'p  the  pore  an'  needy  ones  'at  clusters  all  about, 
Er  the  Gobble-uns  '11  git  you 
Ef  you 
Don't 

Watch 
Out! 


PIPES  O'  PAN  AT  ZEKESBURY 


57  Down  Around  the  River 

NOON-TIME  and  June-time,  down  around  the  river ! 
Have  to  f urse  with  Lizey  Ann — but  lawzy !  I  f ergive 

her! 

Drives  me  off  the  place,  and  says  'at  all  'at  she's  a-wishin', 
Land  o'  gracious !  time'll  come  I'll  git  enough  o'  fishin' ! 
Little  Dave,  a-choppin'  wood,  never  'pears  to  notice ; 
Don't  know  where  she's  hid  his  hat,  er  keerin'  where  his 

coat  is, — 

Specalatin',  more'n  like,  he  hain't  a-goin'  to  mind  me, 
And  guessin'  v/here,  say  twelve  o'clock,   a   feller'd   likely 
find  me. 

Noon-time  and  June-time,  down  around  the  river ! 
Clean  out  o'  sight  o'  home,  and  skulkin'  under  kivver 
Of  the  sycamores,  jack-oaks,  and  swamp-ash  and  ellum — 
Idies  all  so  jumbled  up   you  kin  hardly  tell  'em! — 
Tired,  you  know,  but  lovin'  it,  and  smilin'  jes'  to  think  'at 
Any  sweeter  tiredness  you'd  fairly  want  to  drink  it. 
Tired  o'  fishin' — tired  o'  fun — line  out  slack  and  slacker — 
All  you  want  in  all  the  world's  a  little  more  tobacker ! 

Hungry,  but  a-hidin'  it,  er  jes'  a-not  a-keerin' :— 
Kingfisher  gittin*  up  and  skootin'  out  o'  hearin' ; 
Snipes  on  the  t'other  side,  where  the  County  Ditch  is, 
Wadin'  up  and  down  the  aidge  like  they'd  rolled  their 
britches ! 

114 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Old  turkle  on  the  root  kind  o'  sort  o'  drappin' 
Tntoo  th'  worter  like  he  don't  know  how  it  happen ! 
Worter,  shade  and  all  so  mixed,  don't  know  which  you'd 

orter 
Say,  th'  worter  in  the  shadder — shaddcr  in  the  worter. 

Somebody  hollerin' — 'way  around  the  bend  in 
Upper  Fork — where  yer  eye  kin  jes'  ketch  the  endin' 
Of  the  shiney  wedge  o'  wake  some  muss-rat's  a-makin' 
With  that  pesky  nose  o'  his  !    Then  a  sniff  o'  bacon, 
Corn-bread  and  'dock-greens — and  little  Dave  a-shinnin' 
'Crost  the  rocks  and  mussel-shells,  a-limpin'  and  a-grinnin', 
With  yer  dinner  fer  ye,  and  a  blessin'  from  the  giver. 
Noon-time  and  June-time  down  around  the  river ! 


5<?  Romancin* 

IB'EN  a-kindo'  "musin'"  as  the  feller  says,  and  I'm 
About  o'  the  conclusion  that  they  hain't  no  better  time, 
When  you  come  to  cipher  on  it,  than  the  times  we  used  to 

know 

When  we  swore  our  first  "dog-gone-it"   sorto'  solem'-like 
and  low ! 

You  git  my  idy,  do  you  ? — Little  tads,  you  understand — 
Jest  a-wishin'  time  and  thue  you  that  you  on'y  wuz  a  man. — 
Yit  here  I  am,  this  minute,  even  sixty,  to  a  day, 
And  fergittin'  all  that's  in  it,  wishin'  jes'  the  other  way! 

US 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

I  hain't  no  hand  to  lectur'  on  the  times,  er  demonstrate 
Whare  the  trouble  is,  er  hector  and  domineer  with  Fate, — 
But  when  I  git  so  flurried,  and  so  pestered-like  and  blue, 
And  so  rail  owdacious  worried,  let  me  tell  you  what  I  do  !— 

I  jest  gee-haw  the  hosses,  and  unhook  the  swingle-tree, 
Whare  the  hazel-bushes  tosses  down  theyr  shadders  over  me, 
And  I  draw  my  plug  o'  navy,  and  climb  the  fence,  and  set 
Jest  a-thinkin*  here,  i  gravy ;  tel  my  eyes  is  wringin'  wet ! 

Tho'  I  still  kin  see  the  trouble  o'  the  presunt,  I  kin  see — 
Kindo'  like  my  sight  wuz  double — all  the  things  that  ust 

to  be; 

And  the  flutter  o'  the  robin,  and  the  teeter  o'  the  wren 
Sets  the  wilier-branches  bobbin'  "howdy-do"  thum  Now  to 

Then! 

The  deadnin'  and  the  thicket's  jest  a-bilin'  full  of  June, 
Thum  the  rattle  o'  the  cricket,  to  the  yallar-hammer's  tune ; 
And  the  catbird  in  the  bottom,  and  the  sap-suck  on  the 

snag, 
Seems  ef  they  can't — od-rot  'em! — jest  do  nothin*  else  but 

brag! 

They's  music  in  the  twitter  of  the  bluebird  and  the  jay, 
And  that  sassy  little  critter  jest  a-peckin'  all  the  day; 
They's  music  in  the  "flicker,"  and  they's  music  in  the 

thrush, 
And  they's  music  in  the  snicker  o'  the  chipmunk  in  the 

brush ! 

They's  music  all  around  me!— And  I  go  back,  in  a  dream 
Sweeter  yit  than  ever  found  me  fast  asleep, — and  in  the 
stream 

116 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

That  ust  to  split  the  medder  whare  the  dandylions  growed 
I  stand  knee-deep,  and  redder  than  the  sunset  down  the 
road. 

Then's  when  I'  b'en  a-fishin' ! — and  they's  other  fellers,  too, 
With  theyr  hickry  poles  a-swishin'  out  behind  'em ;  and  a 

few 
Little  "shiners"  on  our  stringers,  with  theyr  tails  tiptoein* 

bloom, 
As  we  dance  'em  in  our  fingers  all  the  happy  jurney  home. 

T  kin  see  us,  true  to  Natur',  thum  the  time  we  started  out 
With  a  biscuit  and  a  'tater  in  our  little  "roundabout" ! 
I  kin  see  our  lines  a-tanglin',  and  our  elbows  in  a  jam, 
And  our  naked  legs  a-danglin'  thum  the  apern  o'  the  dam. 

I  kin  see  the  honeysuckle  climbin'  up  around  the  mill ; 
And  kin  hear  the  worter  chuckle,  and  the  wheel  a-growlin' 

still; 

And  thum  the  bank  below  it  I  kin  steal  the  old  canoe, 
And  jest  git  in  and  row  it  like  the  miller  ust  to  do. 

W'y,  I  git  my  fancy  focused  on  the  past  so  mortal  plain 
I  kin  even  smell  the  locus'-blossoms  bloomin'  in  the  lane ; 
And  I  hear  the  cow-bells  clinkin'  sweeter  tunes'n  "Money- 
musk" 
Fer  the  lightnin'-bugs  a-blinkin'  and  a-dancin'  in  the  dusk. 

And  when  I've  kep*  on  "musin',"  as  the  feller  says,  tel  I'm 
Firm-fixed  in  the  conclusion  that  they  hain't  no  better  time, 
When  you  come  to  cipher  on  it,  than  the  old  times, — I 

de-clare, 
I  kin    wake   and   say   "dog- gone-it  3"   jest   as   soft   as    anj 


117 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


Soniep'n  Common-Like 

O  OMEP'N  'at's  common-like,  and  good 

^-J   And  plain,  and  easy  understood ; 

Somep'n  'at  folks  like  me  and  you 

Kin  understand,  and  relish,  too, 

And  find  some  sermint  in  'at  hits 

The  spot,  and  sticks  and  benefits. 

We  don't  need  nothin*  extry  fine; 

'Cause,  take  the  run  o'  minds  like  mine,     r 

And  we'll  go  more  on  good  horse-sense 

Than  all  your  flowery  eloquence ; 

And  we'll  jedge  best  of  honest  acts 

By  Nature's  statement  of  the  facts- 

So  when  you're  wantin'  to  express 

Your  misery,  er  happiness, 

Er  anything  'at's  wuth  the  time 

O'  telling  in  plain  talk  er  rhyme — 

Jes'  sort  o'  let  your  subject  run 

As  ef  the  Lord  wuz  listenun. 


60  The  Little  Tiny  Kickshaiv 

"  —  And  any  little  tiny  kickshazu."  —  SHAKESPEARE. 


E  little  tiny  kickshaw  that  Mither  sent  tae  me, 
JL      'Tis  sweeter  than  the  sugar-plum  that  reepeiis  on  the 

tree, 

Wi'  denty  flavorin's  o'  spice  an'  musky  rosemarie, 
The  little  tiny  kickshaw  that  Mither  sent  tae  me. 
118 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Tis  luscious  wi'  the  stalen  tang  o'  fruits  frae  ower  the  sea, 
An'  e'en  its  fragrance  gars  we  laugh  wi'  langin'  lip  an'  ee, 
Till  a'  its  frazen  scheen  o*  white  maun  melten  hinnie  be  — 
Sae  weel  I  luve  the  kickshaw  that  Mither  sent  tae  me. 

0  I  luve  the  tiny  kickshaw,  an*  I  smack  my  lips  wi'  glee 
Aye  mickle  do  I  luve  the  taste  o'  sic  a  luxourie, 
But  maist  I  luve  the  luvein'  han's  that  could  the  giftie  gie 
0   the  little  tiny  kickshaw  that  Mither  sent  tae  me. 


61  The  Stepmother 

,rrm[  j'iiJ     I  mirl  T>}  'nj(j<  r     tScii'JB<J  «niirl  y.&o~J 

FIRST  she  come  to  our  house, 
Tommy  run  and  hid  ; 
And  Emily  and  Bob  and  me 

We  cried  jus'  like  we  did 
When  Mother  died,  —  and  we  all  said 

'At  we  all  wisht  'at  we  was  dead  ! 
!  '->A  T>rUom  itmw  od  oi  J/I.K  //    •  zi  lymocri  lunw  so  oJ  1rt£  Vv 

And  Nurse  she  couldn't  stop  us, 

And  Pa  he  tried  and  tried,— 
We  sobbed  and  shook  and  wouldn't  look, 

But  only  cried  and  cried  ; 
And  nen  some  one  —  we  couldn't  jus* 
Tell  who  —  was  cryin'  same  as  us  ! 

"!<dt  laihom  imIv/.3cToMi«j7/   !«i  I'jfaomijvllwsd.Ql  insW" 
Our  Stepmother  !    Yes,  it  was  her, 

Her  arms  around  us  all  — 
'Cause  Tom  slid  down  the  bannister 

And  peeked  in  from  the  hall.  — 
And  we  all  love  her,  too,  because 
She's  purt'  nigh  good  as  Mother  was  I 

119 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

i\  ?Jiuil  'o  gfusJ  nslsla  orf)  'iw  euobeul  efT 
/<?  £<?  JFViwr  Mother  Is 

—^1  sinntrf  n;>Jbm  nujsnt  oJirrw  'o  nrcrbs  rtdsjnl  e)i  '.s  HIT 

WANT  to  be  whur  mother  is!     Want  to  be  whur 
mother  is  1" 

Jeemses  Rivers  !  won't  some  one  ever  shet  that  howl  o*  his  ? 
That-air  yellin'  drives  me  wild ! 
Cain't  none  of  ye  stop  the  child? 
Want  yer  Daddy?    "Naw."    Gee  whizz  I 
"Want  to  be  whur  mother  is  !" 

"Want  to  be  whur  mother  is  !   Want  to  be  whur  mother  is?" 
Coax  him,  Sairy!     Mary,  sing  somepin'  fer  him!     Lift  him, 

Liz- 
Bang  the  clock-bell  with  the  key — 
Er  the  mcat-axl    Gee-mun-nee! 
Listen  to  them  lungs  o'  his ! 
"Want  to  be  whur  mother  is !" 

"Want  to  be  whur  mother  is  !   Want  to  be  whur  mother  is !" 
Jr readier  guess'ii  pound  all  night  on  that  old  pulpit  o'  his ; 

'Pears  to  me  some  wimmin  jest 

Shows  religious  interest 

Mostly  'fore  their  f ambly's  riz ! 

"Want  to  be  whur  mother  is !" 

"Want  to  be  whur  mother  is  !  Want  to  be  whur  mother  is  !" 
Nights  like  these  and  whipper wills  allus  brings  that  voice 
of  his  1 

Sairy;  Mary;  'Lizabeth; 

Don't  set  there  and  ketch  yer  death 

In  the  dew — er  rheumatiz— 

Want  to  be  whur  mother  is? 

120 


THE  HOOSIER   BOOK 
fiwob  i^rfa  ^rfj  bii£  ,qu  bswoig  sw  na/IW 

<5j  Marthy  Ellen 


rpHEY'S  nothin'  in  the  name  to  strike 
JL  A  feller  more'n  common  like ! 
'Taint  liable  to  git  no  praise 
Ner  nothin'  like  it  nowadays  ; 
An*  yit  that  name  o'  her'n  is  jest 
As  purty  as  the  purtiest — 
And  more'n  that,  I'm  here  to  say 
I'll  live  a-thinkin'  thataway 

And  die  f er  Marthy  Ellen ! 

It  may  be  I  was  prejudust 
In  favor  of  it  from  the  fust — 
'Cause  I  kin  ricollect  jest  how 
We  met,  and  hear  her  mother  now 
A-callin'  of  her  down  the  road — 
And,  aggervatin'  little  toad! — 
I  see  her  now,  jest  sort  o'  half- 
Way  disapp'inted,  turn  and  laugh 

And  mock  her— "Marthy  Ellen !' 

Our  people  never  had  no  fuss, 

And  yit  they  never  tuck  to  us ; 

We  neighbered  back  and  foreds  some ; 

Until  they  see  she  liked  to  come 

To  our  house — and  me  and  her 

Was  jest  together  ever'whur 

And  all  the  time — and  when  they'd  see 

That  I  liked  her  and  she  liked  me, 

They'd  holler  "Marthy  Ellen  !" 

121 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

When  we  growed  up,  and  they  shet  down 
On  me  and  her  a-runnin'  roun' 
Together,  and  her  father  said 
He'd  never  leave  her  nary  red, 
So  he'p  him,  ef  she  married  me, 
And  so  on  —  and  her  mother  she 
Jest  agged  the  gyrl,  and  said  she  'lowed 
She'd  ruther  see  her  in  her  shroud, 
I  writ  to  Marthy  Ellen  — 

That  is,  I  kind  o'  tuck  my  pen 

In  hand,  and  stated  whur  and  when 

The  undersigned  would  be  that  night, 

With  two  good  hosses,  saddled  right 

Fer  lively  travelin',  in  case 

Her  folks  'ud  like  to  jine  the  race. 

She  sent  the  same  note  back,  and  writ 

"The  rose  is  red  !"  right  under  it  — 

"Your'n  allus,  Marthy  Ellen." 

That's  all,  I  reckon  —  Nothin'  more 
To  tell  but  what  you've  heerd  afore  — 
The  same  old  story,  sweeter  though 
Fer  all  the  trouble,  don't  you  know. 
Old-fashioned  name!  and  yit  it's  jest 
As  purty  as  the  purtiest; 
And  more'n  that,  I'm  here  to  say 
I'll  live  a-thinkin*  that  away, 

And  die  fer  Marthy  Ellen! 

r'nsifw  britr—  aniil  $iti  Iffi  bnA 


122 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


rtlfl  bvfilld^O  *vi  I  JJJ.H 

Claus  Wuz 


JES'  a  little  bit  o*  feller—  I  remember  still,— 
Ust  to  almost  cry  fer  Christmas,  like  a  youngster  will. 
Fourth  o'  July's  nothin'  to  it  !  —  New-Year's  ain't  a  smell  : 
Easter-Sunday  —  Circus-Day  —  jes'  all  dead  in  the  shell! 
Lordy,  though  !  at  night,  you  know,  to  set  around  and  hear 
The  old  folks  work  the  story  off  about  the  sledge  and  deer, 
And  "Santy"  skootin*  round  the  roof,  all  wrapped  in  fur 

and  fuzz  — 
Long  afore 

I  knowed  who 

"Santy-Claus"  wuzl 
llsw 

Ust  to  wait,  and  set  up  late,  a  week  or  two  ahead  : 
Couldn't  hardly  keep  awake,  ner  wouldn't  go  to  bed  : 
Kittle  stewin'  on  the  fire,  and  Mother  settin'  here 
Darnin'  socks,  and  rockin'  in  the  skreeky  rockin'-cheer  ; 
Pap  gap',  and  wunder  where  it  wuz  the  money  weni, 
And  quar'l  with  his  frosted  heels,  and  spill  his  liniment  : 
And  me  a-dreamin*  sleigh-bells  when  the  clock  'ud  whir 

and  buzz, 
Long  afore 

I  knowed  who 

"Santy-Claus"  wuz! 

Size  the  fireplace  up,  and  figger  how  "Old  Santy"  could 
Manage  to  come  down  the  chimbly,  like  they  said  he  would  : 
Wisht  that  I  could  hide  and  see  him  —  wundered  what  he'd 

say 
Ef  he  ketched  a  feller  layin'  fer  him  thataway  ! 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

But  I  bet  on  him,  and  liked  him,  same  as  ef  he  had 
Turned  to  pat  me  on  the  back  and  say,  "Look  here,  my  lad, 
Here's   my  pack,  —  jes'   he'p   yourse'f,   like   all   good  boys 

does  !" 

—  ,IIi}?,,i^kn5ms>i  I  —  i9ij3i   o  JiJ  swti  £  2H 

Long  afore 

I  knowed  who 

"Santy-Claus"  wuz  ! 

Wisht  that  yarn  was  true  about  him,  as  it  'peared  to  be  — 
Truth  made  out  o'  lies  like  that-un's  good  enough  f  er  me  !  — 
Wisht  I  still  wuz  so  confidin*  I  could  jes'  go  wild 
Over  hangin'  up  my  stockin's,  like  the  little  child 
Climbin'  in  my  lap  to-night,  and  beggin'  me  to  tell 
'Bout  them  reindeers,  and  "Old  Santy"  that  she  loves  so 

well 

I'm  half  sorry  fer  this  little-girl-sweetheart  ,  of  his  — 
Long  afore 

She  knows  who 

"Santy-Claus"  is  ! 


bit'  ifji>I:>  t>if)   ii-jffv/   L-n^d-rfgbfa 

Maw  Jones 


THIS  man  Jones  was  what  you'd  call 
A  feller  'at  had  no  sand  at  all; 
Kind  o'  consumpted,  and  undersize, 
And  sailor-complected,  with  big  sad  eyes, 
And  a  kind-of-a  sort-of-a  hang-dog  style, 
And  a  sneakin'  sort-of-a  half-way  smile 
'At  kind  o'  give  him  away  to  us 
As  a  preacher,  maybe,  er  somepin*  wuss. 

124 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Didn't  take  with  the  gang  —  well,  no  — 

But  still  we  managed  to  use  him,  though,—* 

Coddin'  the  gilly  along  the  rout', 

And  drivin'  the  stakes  'at  he  pulled  out  — 

Per  I  was  one  of  the  bosses  then, 

And  of  course  stood  in  with  the  canvasmen  ; 

And  the  way  we  put  up  jobs,  you  know, 

On  this  man  Jones  jes'  beat  the  show  1 


1^:  - 

Ust  to  rattle  him  scandalous, 
And  keep  the  feller  a-dodgin'  us, 
And  a-shyin'  round  half  skeered  to  death, 
And  afeerd  to  whimper  above  his  breath; 
Give  him  a  cussin',  and  then  a  kick, 
And  then  a  kind-of-a  back-hand  lick  — 
Jes'  fer  the  fun  of  seein'  him  climb 
Around'  with  a  head  on  most  the  time. 

But  what  was  the  curioust  thing  to  me, 
Was  along  o'  the  party  —  let  me  see,  — 
Who  was  our  "Lion  Queen"  last  year  ?— 
Mamzelle  Zanty,  or  De  La  Pierre  ?  — 
Well,  no  matter  —  a  stunnin'  mash, 
With  a  red-ripe  lip,  and  a  long  eyelash, 
And  a  figger  sich  as  the  angels  owns  — 
And  one  too  many  fer  this  man  Jones. 

!;  \*H  no  bsfana  bns'byAw  sri*  *rv;  fanA 
He'd  allus  wake  in  the  afternoon, 
As  the  band  waltzed  in  on  the  lion-tune, 
And  there,  from  the  time  'at  she'd  go  in 
Till  she'd  back  out  of  the  cage  ajj'in, 


125 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

He'd  stand,  shaky  and  limber-kneed— 
'Specially  when  she  come  to  "feed 
The  beasts  raw  meat  with  her  naked  hand"- 
And  all  that  business,  you  understand. 

jisrfJ  298eotf  3flJ  }<>  -cjrro  8£W  I  taft 

And  it  was  resky  in  that  den — 
Fer  I  think  she  juggled  three  cubs  then, 
And  a  big  "green"  lion  'at  used  to  smash 
Collar-bones  fer  old  Frank  Nash; 
And  I  reckon  now  she  hain't  fergot 
The  afternoon  old  "Nero"  sot 
His  paws  on  her!— but  as  fer  me, 
It's  a  sort-of-a  mixed-up  mystery: — • 

,>bi.}|  fi  imll  bos  /nlgguo  &  cnirf  e>'/iO 

Kind  o'  remember  an  awful  roar, 
And  see  her  back  fer  the  bolted  door- 
See  the  cage  rock— heerd  her  call 
"God  have  mercy !"  and  that  was  all — • 
Fer  they  ain't  no  livin'  man  can  tell 
What  it's  like  when  a  thousand  yell 
In  female  tones,  and  a  thousand  more 
Howl  in  bass  till  their  throats  is  sore ! 


But  the  keeper  said  'at  dragged  her  out, 
They  heerd  some  feller  laugh  and  shout— 
"Save  her  !    Quick !   I've  got  the  cuss  !" 
And  yit  she  waked  and  smiled  on  us! 
And  we  daren't  flinch,  fer  the  doctor  said, 
Seein'  as  this  man  Jones  was  dead, 
Better  to  jes'  not  let  her  know 
Nothin'  o'  that  fer  a  week  er  so. 


126 


tHE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


66         When  the  Green  Gits  Back  in 
the  Trees 

IN  spring,  when  the  green  gits  back  in  the  trees, 
And  the  sun  comes  out  and  stays, 
And  yer  boots  pulls  on  with  a  good  tight  squeeze, 

And  you  think  of  yer  barefoot  days ; 
When  you  ort  to  work  and  you  want  to  not, 

And  you  and  yer  wife  agrees 
It's  time  to  spade  up  the  garden-lot, 
When  the  green  gits  back  in  the  trees — 
Well!  work  is  the  least  o'  my  idees 
When  the  green,  you  know,  gits  back  in  the  trees ! 

When  the  green  gits  back  in  the  trees,  and  bees 

T  t  .      ,  ,  ,. 

Is  a-buzzin  aroun  ag  in, 
In  that  kind  of  a  lazy  go-as-you-please 

Old  gait  they  bum  roun'  in ; 
When  the  groun's  all  bald  where  the  hay-rick  stood, 

And  the  crick's  riz,  and  the  breeze 
Coaxes  the  bloom  in  the  old  dogwood, 
And  the  green  gits  back  in  the  trees, — 
I  like,  as  I  say,  in  sich  scenes  as  these, 
The  time  when  the  green  gits  back  in  the  trees  I 
;  vButi  airf  las  ted  t*oa  on  i'nis  j>rf  H3oor!i-2i9li2  Jii?. 
When  the  whole  tail-feathers  o'  Winter-time 

Is  all  pulled  out  and  gone ! 
And  the  sap  it  thaws  and  begins  to  climb, 

And  the  swet  it  starts  out  on 
. .t>T5i{)  inlly}  srb  ffoJs^I  o)  13}  ni&ri9D  drmto  ^Iiurioijsn  b'uoY 


127 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

A  feller's  forred,  a-gittin'  down 

At  the  old  spring  on  his  knees — 
1  kindo'  like  jest  a-loaferin'  roun' 

When  the  green  gits  back  in  the  trees — 
Jest  a-potterin'  roun'  as  I — durn— please — 
When  the  green,  you  know,  gits  back  in  the  trees ! 


of  i^o  JJOY  rwi 
a:  rj}iw  iT{-  IHIS  ncr/  bnA 
67  Doc  Sifers 

OF  all  the  doctors  I  could  cite  you  to  in  this-'ere  town 
Doc  Sifers  is  my  favorite,  jes'  take  him  up  and  down! 
Count  in  the  Bethel  Neighberhood,  and  Rollins,  and  Big 

Bear, 
And  Sifers'  standin's  jes'  as  good  as  ary  doctor's  there! 


There's  old  Doc  Wick,  and  Glenn,  and  Hall,  and  Wurgler, 

and  McVeigh, 

But  I'll  buck  Sifers  'g'inst  'em  all  and  down  'em  any  day  ! 
Most  old  Wick  ever  knowed,  I  s'pose,  was  whisky!  Wurg 

ler  —  well, 
He  et  morphine  —  ef  actions  shows,  and  facts'  reliable  ! 

!  8397$  ail*  ni  >Lwf  «lis  naarg  ^tlt  rpdw  pmb  $riT 
But  Sifers  —  though  he  ain't  no  sot,  he's  got  his  faults; 

and  yit 
When  you  git   Sifers   onc't,  you've  got  a   doctor,   don't 

f  ergit  ! 

He  ain't  much  at  his  office,  er  his  house,  er  anywhere 
You'd  natchurly  think  certain  f  er  to  ketch  the  feller  there.  — 


128 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

But  don't  blame   Doc:   he's   got  all  sorts   o'   cur'ous   no 

tions  —  as 
The    feller    says,    his    odd-come-shorts,    like    smart    men 

mostly  has. 
He'll  more'n  like  be  potter'n'  'round  the  Blacksmith  Shop  ; 

er  in 
Some  back  lot,  spadin'  up  the  ground,  er  gradin'  it  ag'in. 

Er  at  the  work  bench,  planin'  things  ;  er  buildin*  little  traps 
To  ketch  birds;  galvenizin'  rings;  er  graftin'  plums,  per 

haps. 

Make  anything  !  good  as  the  best  !  —  a  gun-stock  —  er  a  flute  ; 
He  whittled  out  a  set  o'  chesstmen  onc't  o'  laurel  root, 

Dunn*  the  Army  —  got  his  trade  o'  surgeon  there  —  I  own 
To-day  a  finger-ring  Doc  made  out  of  a  Sesesh  bone! 
An'  glued  a  fiddle  onc't  fer  me  —  jes'  all  so  busted  you 
'D  'a'  throwed  the  thing  away,  but  he  fixed  her  as  good  as 

new  ! 

ohwitffmwh     •:. 

And  take  Doc,  now,  in  ager,  say,  er  biles,  er  rheumatis, 

And  all  afflictions  thataway,  and  he's  the  best  they  is  ! 

Er    janders  —  milksick  —  I    don't   keer  —  k-yore    anything   he 

tries  — 
A  abscess  ;  getherin'  in  yer  yeer  ;  cr  granilated  eyes  ! 


There  was  the  Widder  Daubenspeck  they  all  give  up  fer 

dead  ; 
A  blame   cowbuncle  on  her  neck,   and  clean   out   of  her 

head! 


129 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

First  had  this  doctor,  what's-his-name,  from  "Puddles- 
burg,"  and  then 

This  little  red-head,  "Burnin'  Shame"  they  call  him — Dr. 
Glenn. 

And  they  "consulted"  on  the  case,  and  claimed  she'd  haf 

to  die, — 

I  jes'  was  joggin'  by  the  place,  and  heerd  her  dorter  cry, 
And  stops  and  calls  her  to  the  fence ;  and  I-says-I,  "Let  me 
Send    Sifers — bet    you    fifteen    cents    he'll    k-yore    licr !" 

"Well,"  says  she, 

"Light  out !"  she  says :  And,  lipp-tee-cut  I  loped  in  town, 

and  rid 
'Bout  two  hours  more  to  find  him,  but  I  kussed  him  when 

I  did! 
He  was  down  at  the  Gunsmith  Shop  a-stuffin'  birds  I    Says 

he, 
"My  sulky's  broke."    Says  I,  "You  hop  right  on  and  ride 

with  me !" 

I  got  him   there. — "Well,  Aunty,   ten   days  k-yores   you," 

Sifers  said, 

"But  what's  yer  idy  livin*  when  yer  jes'  as  good  as  dead?" 
And  there's  Dave  Banks — jes'  back  from  war  without  a 

scratch — one  day 
Got  ketched  up  in  a  sickle-bar,  a  reaper  runaway. — 

His  shoulders,  arms,  and  hands  and  legs  jes'  sawed  in 
strips !  And  Jake 

Dunn  starts  fer  Sifers — feller  begs  to  shoot  him  fer  God- 
sake. 


130 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Doc,  'course,  was  gone,  but  he  had  penned  the  notice,  "At 

Big  Bear — 
Be    back   to-morry;    Gone' to    'tend    the    Bee    Convention 

there." 


But  Jake,   he  tracked   him — rid   and   rode  the  whole  en- 

durin*  night ! 
And  'bout  the  time  the  roosters  crowed  they  both  hove 

into  sight. 
Doc  had  to  ampitate,  but  'greed  to  save  Dave's  arms,  and 

swore 
He  could  V  saved  his  legs  ef  he'd  b'en  there  the  day  before. 

Like  when  his  wife's  own  mother  died  'fore  Sifers  could 

be  found, 

And  all  the  neighbers  fer  and  wide  a*  all  jes'  chasin'  round ; 
Tel  finally— I  had  to  laugh— it's  jes'  like  Doc,  you  know,— 
Was  learnin'  fer  to  telegraph,  down  at  the  old  deepo. 

But  all  they're  faultin'  Sifers  fer,  there's  none  of  'em  kin 

say 

He's  biggoty,  er  keerless,  er  not  posted  anyway ; 
He  ain't  built  on  the  common  plan  of  doctors  now-a-days, 
He's  jes'  a  great,  big,  brainy  man— that's  where  the  trouble 

lays! 


68       Whatever  the  Weather  May  Be 

WHATEVER  the  weather  may  be,"  says  he— 
"Whatever  the  weather  may  be, 
It's  plaze,  if  ye  will,  an'  I'll  say  me  say, — 
Supposin'  to-day  was  the  winterest  day, 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Wud  the  weather  be  changing  because  ye  cried, 
Or  the  snow  be  grass  were  ye  crucified  ? 
The  best  is  to  make  yer  own  summer,"  says  he, 
"Whatever  the  weather  may  be,"  says  he — 
"Whatever  the  weather  may  be ! 

"Whatever  the  weather  may  be,"  says  he— 

"Whatever  the  weather  may  be, 
It's  the  songs  ye  sing,  an'  the  smiles  ye  wear, 
That's  a-makin'  the  sun  shine  everywhere; 
An'  the  world  of  gloom  is  a  world  of  glee, 
Wid  the  bird  in  the  bush,  an'  the  bud  in  the  tree, 
An*  the  fruit  on  the  stim  o'  the  bough,"  says  he, 
"Whatever  the  weather  may  be,"  says  he— 

"Whatever  the  weather  may  be ! 

£  ,:>oCl  5>irf  -'s3{,  g*ti—  rf;p.t?j?f  o?  hr.ri  1 
"Whatever  the  weather  may  be,"  says  he— 

"Whatever  the  weather  may  be, 
Ye  can  bring  the  Spring,  wid  its  green  an*  gold, 
An*  the  grass  in  the  grove  where  the  snow  lies  cold ; 
An*  ye'll  warm  yer  back,  wid  a  smiling  face, 
As  ye  sit  at  yer  heart,  like  an  owld  fireplace, 
An*  toast  the  toes  o'  yer  sowl,"  says  he, 
"Whatever  the  weather  may  be,"  says 

"Whatever  the  weather  may  be !" 


i'v/  3f!i  anw  vsb-o*  V 
132 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


_.     Trr       ,    TJ.        -  b'l 

60  The  Way  It  Wuz 

y  j 

iuods  '?.^{.  sir//  bnA 

LYS'  July-and,  I  persume 
'Bout  as  hot 
As  the  ole  Gran'-jury  room    M  b 

Whare  they  sot  !- 

Fight  'twixt  Mike  an'  Doc  McGreff    .    .  j«^n 
'Pears  to  me  jes'  like  as  ef 

I'd  a-dremp'  the  whole  blame  thing — 

Allus  ha'nts  me  roun'  the  gizzard 
When  they's  nightmares  on  the  wing, 

And  a  feller's  blood's  jes'  friz! 
Seed  the  row  from  A  to  Izzard — 
'Cause  I  wuz  a-standin'  as  clos't  to  'em 
As  me  and  you  is! 

Tell  you  the  way  it  wuz- 
And  I  don't  u>ant  to  see, 

T  M  r    11  j 

Like  some  fellers  does, 

When  they's  goern  to  be 
Any  kind  o'  fuss — 
On'y  makes  a  rumpus  wuss 

Per  to  interfere 

When  theyr  dander's  riz- 

Might  as  lif  to  cheer! 
But  I  wuz  a-standin'  as  clos't  to  'em 

As  me  and  you  is! 

xii  >boG    .irio  b<)lbbr>iq?.  HJG  ,(bl  bnA 

I  wuz  kind  o'  strayin' 

Past  the  b'iame  saloon— 
Heerd  some  fiddler  playin' 

That  ole  "hce-cup  tune !" 

133 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

I'd  stopped-\ike,  you  know, 
Fer  a  minit  er  so, 

And  wuz  jes'  about 
Settin'  down,  when — Jeemses  whizz! 

Whole  durn  winder-sash  fell  out! 
And  there  laid  Doc  McGreff,  and  Mike 
A-straddlin'  him,  all  bloody-like, 

And  both  a-gittin'  down  to  biz ! — 
And  I  wuz  a-standin'  as  clos't  to  'em 

As  me  and  you  is  ! 


I  wuz  the  on'y  man  aroun* — 
(Durn  old-fogey  town ! 
'Feared  more  like,  to  me, 

o        j>      .1.1  o    j.        j>     .  \ 

Sundy  than  Saturay!) 
Dog  come  'crost  the  road 
And  tuk  a  smell 

And  putt  right  back ; 
Mishler  driv  by  'ith  a  load 

O'  cantalo'pes  he  couldn't  sell — 

Too  mad,  'i  jack ! 
To  even  ast 

What  wuz  up,  as  he  went  past ! 
Weather  most  outrageous  hot ! — 

Fairly  hear  it  sizz 

Roun'  Dock  and  Mike — till  Dock  he  shot — 
And  Mike  he  slacked  that  grip  o'  his 
And  fell,  all  spraddled  out.    Dock  riz 
'Bout  half  up,  a-spittin'  red, 
And  shuck  his  head — 
And  I  wuz  a-standin'  as  clos't  to  'em 
As  me  and  you  is ! 

134 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  Dock  he  says, 
A-whisperin'-like,  — 

"It  hain't  no  use 
A-tryin'  !  —  Mike 

He's  jes'  ripped  my  daylig'its  loose!  — 
Git  that  blame-don  fiddler  to 
Let  up,  and  come  out  here  —  You 
Got  some  burryin'  to  do,— 

Mike  makes  one,  and,  I  expects, 
'Bout  ten  seconds  I'll  make  two!" 

And  he  drapped  back,  whare  he  riz, 
'Crost  Mike's  body,  black  and  blue, 

Like  a  great  big  letter  X!  — 
And  I  wuz  a-standin'  as  clos't  to  'em 
As  me  and  you  is  ! 

bingfz  fri'A  moT  te  'bi>v/ond  aw 


Tom  Johnson's  Quit 

—  ,xn  'o  bnivl  e>v/  ai-jfll  briB  n^rlJ  lnA 


A 


PASSEL  o'  the  boys  last  night- 

An'  me  amongst  'em  —  kind  o'  got 
To  talkin'  Temper'nce  left  an'  right, 
An'  workin'  up  "blue-ribbon,"  hot; 
An'  while  we  was  a-countin'  jes' 

How  many  lied  gone  into  hit 
An'  signed  the  pledge,  some  feller  says,^w 
"Tom  Johnson's  quit  !" 

We  laughed,  of  course  —  'cause  Tom,  you  know, 
Has  spiled  more  whisky,  boy  an'  man, 

And  seed  more  trouble,  high  an*  low, 
Than  any  chap  but  Tom  could  stand  : 

135 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  so,  says  J,  "He's  too  nigh  dead 

Per  Temper'nce  to  benefit!" 
The  feller  sighed  ag'in,  and  said  — 
"Tom  Johnson's  quit  !" 


vrn 
We  all  liked  Tom,  an'  that  was  why 

We  sort  o'  simmered  down  ag'in, 
And  ast  the  feller  ser'ously 

Ef  he  wa'n't  tryin'  to  draw  us  in  : 
He  shuck  his  head  —  tuck  off  his  hat  — 

Helt  up  his  hand  an'  opened  hit, 
An'  says,  says  he,  "I'll  swear  to  that  — 
Tom  Johnson's  quit  !" 

Well,  we  was  stumpt,  an*  tickled  too,  — 
Because  we  knowed  ef  Tom  hed  signed 

There  wa'n't  no  man  'at  wore  the  "blue" 
'At  was  more  honester  inclined: 

An'  then  and  there  we  kind  o*  riz,  — 
The  hull  dern  gang  of  us  'at  bit  — 

An'  th'owed  our  hats  and  let  'er  whizz,  — 
"Tom  Johnson's  quit!" 

I've  heerd  'em  holler  when  the  balls 
Was  buzzin'  'round  us  wus'n  bees, 

An'  when  the  ole  flag  on  the  walls 
Was  flappin'  o'er  the  enemy's, 

I've  heerd  a-many  a  wild  "hooray" 
'At  made  my  heart  git  up  an'  git— 

But  Lord  !  —  to  hear  'em  shout  that  way  !  — 
"Tom  Johnson's  quit!" 

s  !)tt£}3  bfuoD  rnoT  Jud  qxih  vnc  neilT 
136 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

But  when  we  saw  the  chap  'at  fetched 

The  news  wa'n't  jinin'  in  the  cheer, 
But  stood  there  solemn-like,  an'  reched 

An'  kind  o'  wiped  away  a  tear, 
We  someway  sort  o'  stilled  ag'in, 

And  listened-I  kin  hear  him  yit, 
His  voice  a-wcbblin'  with  his  chin,— 

"Tom  Johnson's  quit- 

jjvod 

"I  hain't  a-givin'  you  no  game— 

I  wisht  I  was  !     ...    An  hour  ago, 
This  operator  —  what's  his  name  — 

The  one  'at  works  at  night,  you  know  ?  — 
Went  out  to  flag  that  Ten  Express, 

And  sees  a  man  in  front  of  hit 
Th'ow  up  his  hands  an'  stagger  —  yes,  — 

Tom  Johnson's  quit." 
'  *•          ?\  gvbfic   bnK  m  zrnuJ  /turn  i)li 


,-.     ,  oos 

77  The  Old  Home  by  the  Mill 

THIS  is  "The  old  Home  by  the  Mill"—  fer  we  still  call 
it  so, 

Although  the  old  mill,  roof  and  sill,  is  all  gone  long  ago. 
The  old  home,  though,  and  old  folks  —  and  the  old  spring, 

and  a  few 
Old   cattails,   weeds   and  hartychokes,   is   left  to   welcome 


Here,  Marg'et,  fetch  the  man  a  tin  to  drink  out  of!     Our 

spring 
Keeps  kindo'-sorto'  cavin'  in,  but  don't  "taste"  anything  1 

137 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

She's  kindo'  agin',  Marg'et  is  —  "the  old  process,"  like  me, 
All   ham-stringed   up   with   rhumatiz,   and   on   in   seventy- 
three. 


, 

Jes'  me  and  Marg'et  lives  alone  here  —  like  in  long  ago; 
The  childern  all  putt  off  and  gone,  and  married,  don't  you 

know? 
One's  millin'  way  out  West  somewhare;  two  other  miller- 

boys 
In  Mim^opolis  they  air;  and  one's  in  Illinoise. 

The    oldest   gyrl  —  the   first   that   went  —  married   and    died 

right  here  ; 
The  next  lives  in  Winn's  Settlement  —  for  purt'  nigh  thirty 

year  ! 
And  youngest  one  —  was  allus  fer  the  old  home  here  —  but 

no!— 
Her  man  turns  in  and  packs  her  'way  off  to  Idyho  ! 

I  don't  miss  them  like  Marg'et  does  —  'cause  I  got  her,  you 

see; 
And  when  she  pines  for  them  —  that's  'cause  she's  only  jes' 

got  me! 

I  laugh,  and  joke  her  'bout  it  all.  —  But  talkin*  sense,  I'll  say, 
When  she  was  tuk  so  bad  last  Fall,  I  laughed  then  t'other 

way! 

v/?l  K  hns 

I  hain't  so  favor'ble  impressed  'bout  dyin'  ;  but  ef  I 
Found  I  was  only  second-best  when  us  two  come  to  die, 
I'd  'dopt  the  "new  process,"  in  full,  ef  Marg'et  died,  you 

see,  — 
I'd  jes'  crawl  in  my  grave  and  pull  the  green  grass  over 

me! 

138 


H  ;IHT 

;    •  •'  R    BOOK 

bio  DflJ  aimniO  ,^K?J  b'l 


POEMS  OF  CHILDHOOD 

s  l':jiy?t  qt*  bDv/oTg  tn'yov  rrsr!'// 
Mo  :nft  .rfofreq-ngMjsrcg  bio  t>iIT 

Uncle  Sidney 

.•••iUoTSMiiamofcj  bio  3ffT 
Q  OMETIMES,  when  I  bin  bad, 
ks3     An'  Pa  "currecks"  me  nen, 
An'  Uncle  Sidney  he  comes  here, 
I'm  allus  good  again; 


'Cause  Uncle  Sidney  says, 
An'  takes  me  up  an*  smiles,  — 

The  goodest  mcns  they  is  ain't  good 
As  baddcst  little  childs! 


Waitin'  Per  the  Cat  to  Die 

LWZY!  don't  I  rickollect 
That-air  old  swing  in  the  lane ! 
Right  and  proper,  I  expect, 

Old  times  can't  come  back  again ; 
But  I  want  to  state,  ef  they 
Could  come  back,  and  I  could  say 
What  my  pick  'ud  be,  i  jing! 
I'd  say,  Gimme  the  old  swing 
'Nunder  the  old  locus'-trees 
On  the  old  place,  ef  you  please!— 
Danglin'  there  with  half-shet  eye, 
Waitin'  f er  the  cat  to  die ! 

139 


THE   HOOSIER  BOOK 

I'd  say,  Gimme  the  old  gang 

O'  barefooted,  hungry,  lean, 
Ornry  boys  you  want  to  hang 

When  you're  growed  up  twic't  as  mean! 
The  old  gyarden-patch,  the  old 
Truants,  and  the  stuff  we  stol'd ! 
The  old  stompin'-groun',  where  we 
Wore  the  grass  off,  wild  and  free 
As  the  swoop  o'  the  old  swing, 
Where  we  ust  to  climb  and  cling, 
And  twist  roun',  and  fight,  and  lie — 
Waitin'  f  er  the  cat  to  die ! 

'Pears  like  I  'most  alms  could 

Swing  the  highest  of  the  crowd— 

Jes'  sail  up  there  tel  I  stood 

Downside-up,  and  screech  out  loud,— 

Ketch  my  breath,  and  jes'  drap  back 

Per  to  let  the  old  swing  slack, 

Yit  my  towhead  dippin'  still 

In  the  green  boughs,  and  the  chill 

Up  my  backbone  taperin'  down, 

With  my  shadder  on  the  groun' 

Slow  and  slower  trailin'  by — 

Waitin'  f  er  the  cat  to  die ! 

Now  my  daughter's  little  Jane's 

Got  a  kind  o'  baby-swing 
On  the  porch,  so's  when  it  rains 

She  kin  play  there — little  thing ! 
And  I'd  limped  out  t'other  day 
With  my  old  cheer  thisaway, 

140 


THE  -ROOSTER   BOOK 

Swingin'  her  and  rockin'  too, 

Thinkin'  how  /  ust  to  do 

At  her  age,  when  suddently, 

"Hey,  Gran'pap !"  she  says  to  me, 

"Why  you  rock  so  slow?"     .     .     .     Says  I, 

"Waitin'  f er  the  cat  to  die !" 


*nA 

74  TVz?  Happy  Little  Cripple 

-6)  Ilfi  ."•»-/  ?"?-r;;I)  jjs*  m;l/f  ttfttiLI  srfT  jrterB-trt  «iriJsW  orfW" 

I'M  thist  a  little  crippled  boy,  an'  never  goin'  to  grow 
An'  git  a  great  big  man  at  all ! — 'cause  Aunty  told  me  so. 
When  I  was  thist  a  baby  onc't  I  failed  out  of  the  bed 
An'  got  "The  Curv'ture  of  the  Spine" — 'at's  what  the  Doc 
tor  said. 

I  never  had  no  Mother  nen — fer  my  Pa  runned  away 
An'  dassn't  come  back  here  no  more — 'cause  he  was  drunk 

one  day 
An'  stobbed  a  man  in  thish-ere  town,  an'  couldn't  pay  his 

fine! 

An'   nen  my   Ma  she  died — an'   I   got   "Curv'ture  of   the 
Spine" ! 

I'm  nine  years  old !   An'  you  can't  guess  how  much  I  weigh, 

I  bet!— 
Last  birthday  I  weighed  thirty-three! — An*  I  weigh  thirty 

flit    i  yet!      I    Imrw    <tdl   'mln 
I'm  awful  little  fer  my  size — I'm  purt'  nigh  littler  nan 

Some  babies   is ! — an'  neighbers   all  calls  me   "The   Little 
Man" ! 

141 


TOE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  Doc  one  time  he  laughed  an'  said  :   "I  'spect,  first  thing 

you  know, 

You'll  have  a  little  spike-tail  coat  an'  travel  with  a  show  !" 
An*   nen   I   laughed  —  till   I   looked   round   an'  Aunty   was 

a-cryin'— 
Sometimes  she  acts  like  that,  'cause  I  got  "Curv'ture  of  the 

Spine"  ! 

I  set  —  while  Aunty's  washin'  —  on  my  little  long-leg  stool, 
An'  watch  the  little  boys  an'  girls  a-skippin'  by  to  school  ; 
An'  I  peck  on  the  winder,  an'  holler  out  an'  say: 
"Who  wants  to  fight  The  Little  Man  'at  dares  you  all  to 

day?" 
An'  nen  the  boys  climbs  on  the  fence,  an'  little  girls  peeks 

through, 
An'  they  all  says  :    "  'Cause  you're  so  big,  you  think  we're 

'feard  o'  you  !" 
An'  nen  they  yell,  an'  shake  their  fist  at  me,  like  I  shake 

mine  _ 
They're  thist  in  fun,  you  know,  'cause  I  got  "Curv'ture  of 

the  Spine"  ! 

At  evening,  when  the  ironin'  's  done,  an*  Aunty's  fixed  the 

fire, 
An'  filled  an'  lit  the  lamp,  an'  trimmed  the  wick  an*  turned 

it  higher, 
An'  fetched  the  wood  all  in  fer  night,  an'  locked  the  kitchen 

door, 
An'   stuffed   the   old   crack   where   the   wind  blows   in   up 

through  the  floor— 
itrftLI   3({-T"   9irr  attad  -Itx:   jnaklrfs&ft''  .'ns  —  !zi   asittad  smoH 


142 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

She  sets  the  kittle  on  the  coals,  an'  biles  an'  makes  the  tea, 
An'  fries  the  liver  an'  the  mush,  an'  cooks  a  egg  fer  me; 
An'  sometimes — when  I  cough  so  hard — her  elderberry 

wine 
Don't  go   so  bad    fer   little  boys   with   "Curv'ture  of   the 

Spine"! 
".•jrii"  ?,e  rf -ji!>.—  -,«Mi*fif<jfp/8  'bldiWfehrjzfid  isltJaaiTrev^  hHrio  ni  Aii&f^ 

An*  nen  when  she  putts  me  to  bed — an*  'fore  she  does  she's 

got 
My  blanket-nighty,  'at  she  maked,  all  good  an'  warm  an' 

hot, 
Hunged  on  the  rocker  by  the  fire — she  sings  me  hymns,  an' 

tells 

Me   'bout   The   Good   Man— yes,   an'   Elves,    an'   Old   En 
chanter  spells ; 
An'  tells  me  more — an'  more — an'  more ! — tel  I'm  asleep, 

purt'  nigh — 

Only  I  thist  set  up  ag'in  an'  kiss  her  when  she  cry, 
A-tellin'    on    'bout    some    boy's     Angel-mother  —  an'    it's 

mine!     .     .     . 
My  Ma's  a  Angel — but  I'm  got   "The   Curv'ture   of    the 

Spine" ! 

But  Aunty's  all  so  childish-like  on  my  account,  you  see, 
I'm    'most    afeard    she'll   be    took    down — an'    'at's    what 

bothers  me! — 

'Cause  ef  my  good  old  Aunty  ever  would  git  sick  an'  die, 
I  don't  know  what  she'd  do  in  Heaven — till  /  come,  by  an' 

by:- 

Fer  she's  so  ust  to  all  my  ways,  an'  ever'thing,  you  know, 
An'  no  one  there  like  me,  to  nurse  an'  worry  over  so ! — 


143 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

'Cause  all  the  little  childerns  there's  so  straight  an'  strong 

an*  fine, 
They's  nary  angel  'bout  the  place  with  "Curv'ture  of  the 

Spine" ! 


NOTE.— The  word  "thist,"  as  used  in  foregoing  lines,  is  an  occa 
sional  childish  pronunciation  evolved  from  the  word  "just" — a  word 
which  in  child  vernacular  has  manifold  supplanters, — such  as  "jus," 
"jes,"  "des,"  "jis,"  "dis,"  "jist,"  "dist,"  "ist,"  and  even  "gist," 
with  hard  g.  In  "thist,"  as  used  above,  sound  "th"  as  in  the  word 
"the." 


75  Christmas  Afterthought 

A  FTER  a  thoughtful,  almost  painful  pause, 
-L\.  Bub  sighed,  "I'm  sorry  fer  old  Santy  Claus: — 
They  wus  no  Santy  Claus,  ner  couldn't  be, 
When  he  wuz  ist  a  little  boy  like  me !" 


In  the  Night 

WHEN  it's  night,  and  no  light,  too, 
Wakin'  by  yourse'f, 
With  the  old  clock  mockin'  you 

On  the  mantel-she'f ; 
In  the  dark — so  still  and  black, 

You're  afeard  you'll  hear 

Somepin'  awful  pop  and  crack, — • 

"Go  to  sleep,  my  dear!" 


144 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

That's  what  Mother  says.— And  then's 

When  we  ain't  afeard! 
Wunder,  when  we  be  big  mens, 

Then  'ul  we  be  skeerd  ? — 
Some  night  Mother's  goned  away, 

And  ist  us  is  here, 
Will  The  Good  Man  wake  and  say, 

"Go  to  sleep,  my  dear"  ? 


When  Our  Baby  Died 

WHEN  our  baby  died— 
My  Ma  she  ist  cried  an'  cried  ! 
Yes  'n'  my  Pa  he  cried,  too  — 
An'/cried-An'mean'you.-^ 
An'  I  'tended  like  my  doll 
She  cried  too  —  An'  ever*  —  all  — 
O  ist  ever'body  cried 

When  our  baby  died! 


When  our  baby  died- 
Nen  I  got  to  took  a  ride! 
'An*  we  all  ist  rode  an'  rode 
Clean  to  Heav'n  where  baby  goed  * 
Mighty  nigh!  —  An'  nen  Ma  she 
Cried  ag'in-an'  Pa-an'  me.- 
A1I  but  ist  the  Angels  cried 

When  our  baby  died! 

145 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


The  Squirt-Gun  Uncle  Maked  Me 


UNCLE  SIDNEY,  when  he  was  here, 
Maked  me  a  squirt-gun  out  o'  some 
Elder-bushes  'at  growed  out  near 
Where  wuz  the  brick-yard — 'way  out  clear 
To  where  the  Toll  Gate  come ! 

So  when  we  walked  back  home  again, 

He  maked  it,  out  in  our  woodhouse  where 
Wuz  the  old  work-bench,  an'  the  old  jack-plane, 
An'  the  old  'poke-shave,  an'  the  tools  all  lay'n' 
1st  like  he  wants  'em  there. 

He  sawed  it  first  with  the  old  hand-saw ; 

An'  nen  he  peeled  off  the  bark,  an'  got 
Some  glass  an'  scraped  it;  an'  told  'bout  Pa, 
When  he  wuz  a  boy  an'  fooled  his  Ma, 
An'  the  whippin'  'at  he  caught. 

F^LT"  «/-tk£kd'*t;M r •'••   It''  O 
Nen  Uncle  Sidney,  he  took  an'  filed 

A'  old  arn  ramrod ;  an'  one  o'  the  ends 
He  screwed  fast  into  the  vise ;  an'  smiled, 
Thinkin',  he  said,  o'  when  he  wuz  a  child, 

'Fore  him  an'  Pa  wuz  mens. 

•  i..9Ji>oi  'GIL  aboi  i'?,i  ll&  s~ff   nA 

He  punched  out  the  peth,  an'  nen  he  putt 

A  plug  in  the  end  with  a  hole  notched  through ; 
Nen  took  the  old  drawey-knife  an'  cut 
An*  maked  a  handle  'at  shoved  clean  shut 
But  ist  where  yer  hand  held  to. 

146 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

An'  he  wropt  th'uther  end  with  some  string  an*  white 

Piece  o'  the  sleeve  of  a'  old  tored  shirt  ; 
An'  nen  he  showed  me  to  hold  it  tight, 
An*  suck  in  the  water  an'  work  it  right.  — 
An'  it  'ud  ist  squirt  an'  squirt  1 


—  .  . 

;rp  That-Air  Young-Un 

cT>b39l-?ikfR  sdi  .teriw  biwon^i 

THAT-AIR  young-un  ust  to  set 
By  the  crick  here  day  by  day,—- 
Watch  the  swallers  dip  and  wet 
Their  slim  wings  and  skoot  away; 
Watch  these  little  snipes  along 
The  low  banks  tilt  up  and  down 
'Mongst  the  reeds,  and  hear  the  song 
Of  the  bullfrogs  croakin'  roun'  : 
Ust  to  set  here  in  the  sun 
Watchin'  things,  and  listenun, 
Teared-like,  mostly  to  the  roar 
Of  the  dam  below,  er  to 
That-air  riffle  nigh  the  shore 
Jes'  acrost  from  me  and  you. 
Ust  to  watch  him  from  the  door 
Of  the  mill.  —  'Ud  rigg  him  out 
With  a  fishin'-pole  and  line  — 
Dig  worms  fer  him  —  nigh  about 
Jes'  spit  on  his  bait  !  —  but  he 
Never  keered  much,  'pearantly, 
To  ketch  fish  !—  He'd  ruther  fine 
Out  some  sunny  place,  and  set 

147 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

Watchin'  things,  with  droopy  head, 
And  "a-listenun,"  he  said — 
"Kind  o'  listenun  above 
The  old  crick  to  what  the  wet 
Warter  was  a-talkin'  of!" 

Jevver  hear  sich  talk  as  that? 

Bothered  Mother  more'n  me 

What  the  child  was  cipher'n'  at. — 

Come  home  onc't  and  said  'at  he 

Knowed  what  the  snake- feeders  thought 

When  they  grit  their  wings ;  and  knowed 

Turkle-talk,  when  bubbles  riz 

Over  where  the  old  roots  growed 

Where  he  th'owed  them  pets  o'  his — 

Little  turripuns  he  caught 

In  the  County  Ditch  and  packed 

In  his  pockets  days  and  days ! — 

Said  he  knowed  what  goslin's  quacked— 

Could  tell  what  the  killdees  sayes, 

And  grasshoppers,  when  they  lit 

In  the  crick  and  "minnies"  bit 

Off  their  legs.— "But,  blame!"  sayes  he? 

Sort  o'  lookin'  clean  above 

Mother's  head  and  on  through  me — 

(And  them  eyes! — I  see  'em  yet!)  — 

"Blame!"  he  sayes,  "ef  I  kin  see, 

Er  make  out,  jes'  what  the  wet 

Warter  is  a-talkin'  of !" 

Sii  jrrcfr—-!  ji6(f  jjid ,np>  Jk^>  .V,^ 
Made  me  nervous!    Mother,  though, 
Said  best  not  to  scold  the  child— 
The  Good  Bein'  knowed. — And  so 

148 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

We  was  only  rickonciled 
When  he'd  be  asleep.  —  And  then, 
Time,  and  time,  and  time  again, 
We've  watched  over  him,  you  know— 
Her  a-sayin'  nothin'  —  jes' 
Kind  o'  smoothin'  back  his  hair, 
And,  all  to  herse'f,  I  guess, 
Studyin'  up  some  kind  o'  prayer 
She  ain't  tried  yet.  —  Onc't  she  said, 
Cotin'  Scriptur',  "  'He,'  "  says  she, 
In  a  solemn  whisper,  "  'He 
Givuth  His  beloved  sleep  !'  " 
And  jes'  then  I  heerd  the  rain 
Strike  the  shingles,  as  I  turned 
Res'less  to'rds  the  wall  again. 
Pity  strong  men  dast  to  weep  !  — 
Specially  when  up  above 
Thrash!  the  storm  comes  down  and  you 
Feel  the  midnight  plum  soaked  through 
Heart  and  soul,  and  vrunder,  too, 
What  the  warter's  talkin'  of  ! 

—  won  zs  btoD  oz  ion  ?.r>  n  it 
•  i    •  ^  i  .  -v   |  •  f-  j 

Found  his  hat  'way  down  below 
Hinchman's  Ford.  —  'Ves'  Anders  he 
Rid  and  fetched  it.     Mother  she 
Went  wild  over  that,  you  know  — 
Hugged  it!  kissed  itl—Turribul! 
My  hopes  then  was  all  gone  too.     .     .    < 
Brung  him  in,  with  both  hands  full 
O'  warter-lilies  —  'peared-like  new- 


149 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Bloomed  fer  him  —  renched  whiter  still 
In  the  clear  rain,  mixin'  fine 
And  finer  in  the  noon  sunshine.    ^,;:p  , 
Winders  of  the  old  mill  looked 
On  him  where  the  hill-road  crooked 
In  on  through  the  open  gate.    .  ^  •,,;>{ 
Laid  him  on  the  old  settee 
On  the  porch  there.    Heerd  the  great 
Roarin'  dam  acrost  —  and  we 
Heerd  a  crane  cry  in  amongst 
The  sycamores  —  and  then  a  dove 
Cutterin'  on  the  mill-roof  —  then 
Heerd  the  crick,  and  thought  again, 
"Now  what's  it  a-talkin'  of  ?" 
.nijsfi  fifiV/  srff  a'bi'o* 


8o  Old  Man's  Nursery  Rhyme 

IN  the  jolly  winters 
Of  the  long-ago, 
It  was  not  so  cold  as  now — • 

Oh!  No!  No! 
Then,  as  I  remember, 

Snowballs  to  eat 
Were  as  good  as  apples  now. 
And  every  bit  as  sweet ! 


In  the  jolly  winters 
Of  the  dead-and-gone, 

Bub  was  warm  as  summer, 
With  his  red  mitts  on,— 

150 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Just  in  his  little  waist- 
And-pants  all  together, 

Who  ever  heard  him  growl 
About  cold  weather? 

In  the  jolly  winters 

Of  the  long-ago — 
Was  it  half  so  cold  as  now? 

Oh !  No !  No ! 
Who  caught  his  death  o'  cold, 

Making  prints  of  men 
Flat-backed  in  snow  that  now's 

Twice  as  cold  again? 

In  the  jolly  winters 

Of  the  dead-and-gone, 
Startin'  out  rabbit  huntin' — 

Early  as  the  dawn, — 
Who  ever  froze  his  fingers, 

Ears,  heels,  or  toes, — 
Or'd  'a'  cared  if  he  had? 

Nobody  knows ! 

Nights  by  the  kitchen  stove, 

Shellin'  white  and  red 
Corn  in  the  skillet,  and 

Sleepin'  four  abed! 
Ah!  the  jolly  winters 

Of  the  long-ago! 
We  were  not  as  old  as  now — 

Oh!  No!  No! 


151 


THE   IIOOSIER   BOOK 


8  1  Ma.  i'  and  Jim 

MAX  an'  Jim, 
They're  each  other's 
Fat  an*  slim 

Little  brothers. 


Max  is  thin, 

An'  Jim,  the  fac's  is, 
Fat  ag'in 

As  little  Max  is  ! 

Their  Pa  'lowed 

He  don't  know  whuther 
He's  most  proud 

Of  one  er  th'other! 

Their  Ma  says 

They're  both  so  sweet  —  'ra/ 
That  she  guess 

She'll  haf  to  eat  'em  ! 


82  The  Old  Haymow 

THE  Old  Haymow's  the  place  to  play 
Fer  boys,  when  it's  a  rainy  day ! 
I  good  'eal  ruther  be  up  there 
Than  down  in  town,  er  anywhere  1 


152 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

When  I  play  in  our  stable-loft, 
The  good  old  hay's  so  dry  an'  soft, 
An'  feels  so  fine,  an'  smells  so  sweet, 
I  'most  ferget  to  go  an'  eat. 

An'  one  time  onc't  I  did  ferget 
To  go  tel  dinner  was  all  et, — 
An'  they  had  short-cake— an'— Bud  he 
Hogged  up  the  piece  Ma  saved  f  er  me ! 

SiJ-MW-tfq^wfesfi  *3 
Nen  I  won't  let  him  play  no  more 
In  our  haymow  where  I  keep  store 
An*  got  hen-eggs  to  sell, — an'  shoo 
The  cackle-un  old  hen  out,  too! 

*£3  'frc*v/£t  airf  qmorfo 'bSr!  n& 
An'  nen,  when  Aunty  she  was  here 
A-visitun  from  Rensselaer, 
An'  bringed  my  little  cousin, — he 
Can  come  up  there  an'  play  with  me. 

But,  after  while — when  Bud  he  bets 
'At  I  can't  turn  no  summersetts, 
I  let  him  come  up,  ef  he  can 
Ac'  ha'f-way  like  a  gentleman ! 


Guincy-Pigs 

UINEY-PIGS  is  awful  cute, 
vJT  With  their  little  trimbly  snoot 
Sniffin'  at  the  pussly  that 
We  bring  'em  to  nibble  at. 

153 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Looks  like  they're  so  clean  an'  white, 
An'  so  dainty  an'  polite, 
They  could  eat  like  you  an'  me 
When  they's  company! 

Tiltin'  down  the  clover-tops 

Till  they  spill,  an'  overdrops 

The  sweet  morning  dew — Don't  you 

Think  they  might  have  napkins,  too? 

Ef  a  guiney-pig  was  big 

As  a  shore-an '-certain  pig, 

Nen  he  wouldn't  ac'  so  fine 
When  he  come  to  dine. 

Nen  he'd  chomp  his  jaws  an'  eat 
Things  out  in  the  dirty  street, 
Dirt  an'  all!     An'  nen  lay  down 
In  mud-holes  an'  waller  roun' ! 
So  the  guiney-pigs  is  best, 
'Cause  they're  nice  an'  tidiest ; 
They  eat  'most  like  you  an'  me 
When  they's  company! 


The  Land  of  Thus-and-So 

"TTOW  would  Willie  like  to  go 

J-  •*-    To  the  Land  of  Thus-and-So? 
Everything  is  proper  there — 
All  the  children  comb  their  hair 
Smoother  than  the  fur  of  cats, 
Or  the  nap  of  high  silk  hats; 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Every  face  is  clean  and  white 
As  a  lily  washed  in  light; 
Never  vaguest  soil  or  speck 
Found  on  forehead,  throat  or  neck* 
Every  little  crimpled  ear, 
In  and  out,  as  pure  and  clear 
As  the  cherry-blossom's  blow 
In  the  Land  of  Thus-and-So. 

"Little  boys  that  never  fall 
Down  the  stairs,  or  .cry  at  all — 
Doing  nothing  to  repent, 
Watchful  and  obedient; 
Never  hungry,  nor  in  haste — 
Tidy  shoe-strings  always  laced ; 
Never  button  rudely  torn 
From  its  fellows  all  unworn ; 
Knickerbockers  always  new — 
Ribbon,  tie,  and  collar,  too ; 
Little  watches,  worn  like  men, 
Always  promptly  half-past  ten- 
Just  precisely  right,  you  know, 
For  the  Land  of  Thus-anH-So! 

"And  the  little  babies  ther° 
Give  no  one  the  slightest  car*1 — 
Nurse  has  not  a  thing  to  do 
But  be  happy  arid  sigh  'Boo  '* 
While  Mamma  just  nods,  and  knows 
Nothing  but  to  doze  and  doze 
Never  litter  round  the  grate/ 
Never  lunch  or  dinner  late ; 

155 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Never  any  household  din 

Peals  without  or  rings  within — 

Baby  coos  nor  laughing  calls 

On  the  stairs  or  through  the  halls — 

Just  Great  Hushes  to  and  fro 

Pace  the  Land  of  Thus-and-So ! 

yrokl  .*  HP  ;.;?  t»ilj  2 A 

"Oh !  the  Land  of  Thus-and-So ! 
Isn't  it  delightful,  though  ?" 
"Yes,"  lisped  Willie,  answering  me 
Somewhat  slow  and  doubtfully — 
"Must  be  awful  nice,  but  I 
Ruther  wait  till  by  and  by 
'Fore  I  go  there — maybe  when 
I  be  dead  I'll  go  there  then.— 
But"— the  troubled  little  face 
Closer  pressed  in  my  embrace — 
"Le's  don't'  never  ever  go 
To  the  Land  of  Thus-and-So !" 


<?5  Grandfather  Squecrs 


y  grandfather  Squeers,"  said  The  Raggedy  Man, 
As  he  solemnly  lighted  his  pipe  and  began — 


"The  most  indestructible  man,  for  his  years, 

And  the  grandest  on  earth,  was  my  grandfather  Squeers! 

"He  said,  when  he  rounded  his  threescore-and-ten, 
'I've  the  hang  of  it  now  and  can  do  it  again !' 

156 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

"He  had  frozen  his  heels  so  repeatedly,  he 

Could  tell  by  them  just  what  the  weather  would  be; 

"And  would  laugh  and  declare,  'while  the  Almanac  would 
Most  falsely  prognosticate,  he  never  could  1' 

"Such  a  hale  constitution  had  grandfather  Squeers 
That,  though  he'd  used  'navy'  for  sixty-odd  years, 

"He  still  chewed  a  dime's  worth  six  days  of  the  week, 
While  the  seventh  he  passed  with  a  chew  in  each  cheek. 

"Then  my  grandfather  Squeers  had  a  singular  knack 

Of  sitting  around  on  the  small  of  his  back,  »  f>ir 

"With  his  legs  like  a  letter  Y  stretched  o'er  the  grate 
Wherein  'twas  his  custom  to  ex-pec-tor-ate. 

"He  was  fond  of  tobacco  in  manifold  ways, 

And  would  sit  on  the  door-step,  of  sunshiny  days, 

"And  smoke  leaf-tobacco  he'd  raised  strictly  for 
The  pipe  he'd  used  all  through  the  Mexican  Wrar." 

And  The  Raggedy  Man  said,  refilling  the  bowl 
Of  his  own  pipe  and  leisurely  picking  a  coal 

From  the  stove  with  his  finger  and  thumb,  "You  can  see 
What  a  tee-nacious  habit  he's  fastened  on  me ! 

"And  my  grandfather  Squeers  took  a  special  delight 
In  pruning  his  corns  every  Saturday  night 

157' 


THE   HOOSIER    BOOK 

"With  a  horn-handled  razor,  whose  e^ge  he  excused 
By  saying  'twas  one  that  his  grandfather  used; 

"And,  though  deeply  etched  in  the  haft  of  the  same 
Was  the  ever-euphonious  Wostenholm's  name, 

"  'Twas  my  grandfather's  custom  to  boast  of  the  blade 
As  'a  Seth  Thomas  razor — the  best  ever  made !' 

"No  Old  Settlers'  Meeting,  or  Pioneers'  Fair, 

Was  complete  without  grandfather  Squeers  in  the  chair, 

"To  lead  off  the  program  by  telling  folks  how 

'He  used  to  shoot  deer  where  the  Court-house  stands  now' — 

"How  'he  felt,  of  a  truth,  to  live  over  the  past, 
When  the  country  was  wild  and  unbroken  and  vast, 

"  'That  the  little  log  cabin  was  just  plenty  fine 

For  himself,  his  companion,  and  fambly  of  nine! — 

"  'When  they  didn't  have  even  a  pump,  or  a  tin, 
But  drunk  surface-water,  year  out  and  year  in, 

"  'From  the  old-fashioned  gourd  that  was  sweeter,  by  odds, 
Than  the  goblets  of  gold  at  the  lips  of  the  gods !'  " 

Then  The  Raggedy  Man  paused  to  plaintively  say 
It  was  clockin'  along  to'rds  the  close  of  the  day — 

And  he'd  ought  to  get  back  to  his  work  on  the  lawn, — 
Then  dreamily  blubbered  his  pipe  and  went  on : 

158 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

"His  teeth  were  imperfect — my  grandfather  owned 
That  he  couldn't  eat  oysters  unless  they  were  'boned'; 

"And  his  eyes  were  so  weak,  and  so  feeble  of  sight, 
He  couldn't  sleep  with  them  unless,  every  night, 

"He  put  on  his  spectacles — all  he  possessed, — 
Three  pairs — with  his  goggles  on  top  of  the  rest. 

"And  my  grandfather  always,  retiring  at  night, 
Blew  down  the  lamp-chimney  to  put  out  the  light; 

"Then  he'd  curl  up  on  edge  like  a  shaving,  in  bed, 
And  puff  and  smoke  pipes  in  his  sleep,  it  is  said : 

"And  would  snore  oftentimes,  as  the  legends  relate, 
Till  his  folks  were  wrought  up  to  a  terrible  state, — 

I  J^L 

"Then  he'd  snort,  and  rear  up,  and  roll  over ;  and  there 
In  the  subsequent  hush  they  could  hear  him  chew  air. 

V£2   3[f2   £M   zVforifiM   sljji.I 

"And  so  glaringly  bald  was  the  top  of  his  head 
That  many's  the  time  he  has  musingly  said, 

"As  his  eyes  journeyed  o'er  its  reflex  in  the  glass, — 
'I  must  set  out  a  few  signs  of  Keep  Off  the  Grass!' 

"So  remarkably  deaf  was  my  grandfather  Squeers 
That  he  had  to  wear  lightning-rods  over  his  ears 

"To  even  hear  thunder — and  oftentimes  then 
He  was  forced  to  request  it  to  thunder  again." 

159 


THE   HOOSIER   ROOK 


86        Little  Mandy's  Christinas-Tree 

T  ITTLE  Mandy  and  her  Ma 

JL<  'S  porest  folks  you  ever  saw  !— 

Lived  in  porest  house  in  town, 

Where  the  fence  'uz  all  tore  down. 
'.123T  »rfj  io  qot  no  rei^o^  eid  rltiw  —  aiixxi  imif'i 

And  no  front-door  steps  at  all  — 
1st  a'  old  box  'g'inst  the  wall; 
And  no  door-knob  on  the  door 


Outside.  —  My!  but  they  'uz  pore! 

>>•  .,da  s  aafrl  3360  -no  qtr  fam.  b'aif 


Wuz  no  winder-shutters  on, 
And  some  of  the  winders  gone, 
And  where  they  'uz  broke  they'd  pas'e 
1st  brown  paper  'crost  the  place. 


Tell  you !  when  it's  winter  there, 

And  the  snow  ist  ever'where, 

Little  Mandy's  Ma  she  say 

'Spec'  they'll  freeze  to  death  some  day. 

Wunst  my  Ma  and  me — when  we 


Be'n  to  church,  and's  goin'  to  be 


Chris'mus  purty  soon, — we  went 
There — like  the  Committee  sent. 

And-sir!  when  we're  in  the  door, 
Wuz  no  carpet  on  the  floor, 
And  no  fire— and  heels-and-head 
Little  Mandy's  tucked  in  bed ! 
160 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  her  Ma  telled  my  Ma  she 
Got  no  coffee  but  ist  tea, 
And  fried  mush — and's  all  they  had 
Sence  her  health  broke  down  so  bad. 

Nen  Ma  hug  and  hold  me  where 
Little  Mandy's  layin'  there ; 
And  she  kiss  her,  too,  and  nen 
Mandy  kiss  my  Ma  again. 

And  my  Ma  she  telled  her  we 
Goin'  to  have  a  Chris'mus-Tree, 
At  the  Sund'y-School,  'at's  fer 
ALL  the  childern,  and  fer  her. 

Little  Mandy  think — nen  she 
Say,  "What  is  a  Chris'mus-Tree?" 
Nen  my  Ma  she  gived  her  Ma 
Somepin'  'at  I  never  saw. 

oi   ?-T3<t*irLw  yl  n£m  <yfo  na'/I 
And  say  she  must  take  it, — and 

She  ist  maked  her  keep  her  hand 
Wite  close  shut, — and  nen  she  kiss 
Her  hand — shut  ist  like  it  is. 

Nen  we  corned  awajr.     .     .     .     And  nen 
When  it's  Chris'mus  Eve  again, 
And  all  of  us  childerns  be 
At  the  Church  and  Chris'mus-Tree — • 

And  all  git  our  toys  and  things 
'At  old  Santy  Claus  he  brings 
And  puts  on  the  Tree ; — wite  where 
The  big  Tree  'uz  standin'  there, 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  the  things  'uz  all  tooked  down, 
And  the  childerns,  all  in  town, 
Got  their  presents — nen  we  see 
They's  a  little  Chris'mus-Tree 

Wite  behind  the  big  Tree— so 
We  can't  see  till  ncn,  you  know, — 
And  it's  all  ist  loaded  down 
With  the  purtiest  things  in  town ! 

And  the  teacher  smile  and  say: 
"This-here  Tree  'at's  hid  away 
It's  marked  'Little  Mandy's  Tree.'- — • 
Little  Mandy!    Where  is  she?" 

Nen  nobody  say  a  word. — 
Stillest  place  you  ever  heard ! — 
Till  a  man  tiptoe  up  where 
Teacher's  still  a-waitin'  there. 

Nen  the  man  he  whispers,  so 

••  brrA 
Ist  the  Teacher  hears,  you  know. 

3ff3 

Nen  he  tiptoe  back  and  go 
Out  the  big  door — ist  so  slow ! 

Little  Mandy,  though,  she  don't 
Answer — and  Ma  say  "she  won't 
Never,  though  each  year  they'll  be 
'Little  Mandy's  Chris'mus-Tree' 

Fer  pore  childern" — my  Ma  says — • 
And  Committee  say  they  guess 
"Little  Mandy's  Tree"  'till  be 
Bigger  than  the  other  Tree! 

162 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


ou       ^fi     o-o    g     --  < 

8?     The  Funniest  Thing  in  the  World 


E  funniest  thing  in  the  world,  I  know, 
JL     Is  watchin'  the  monkeys  'at's  in  the  show  !— 
Jumpin'  an'  runnin'  an*  racin'  roun', 
'Way  up  the  top  o'  the  pole;  nen  down! 
First  they're  here,  an'  nen  they're  there, 
An'  ist  a'most  any  an'  ever'where  !— 
Screechin'  an'  scratchin'  wherever  they  go, 
They're  the  funniest  thing  in  the  world,  I  know  ! 

They're  the  funniest  thing  in  the  world,  I  think  :— 

Funny  to  watch  'em  eat  an'  drink  ; 

Funny  to  watch  'em  a-watchin'  us, 

An'  actin'  'most  like  grown  folks  does!  — 

Funny  to  watch  'em  p'tend  to  be 

Skeered  at  their  tail  'at  they  happen  to  see  ;— 

But  the  funniest  thing  in  the  world  they  do 

Is  never  to  laugh,  like  me  an'  you! 


--  ,- 

88  Little  Johnts's  Chris'  mu-s 


w 


E  got  it  up  a-purpose,  jes'  fer  little  Johnts,  you  know ; 

His  mother  was  so  pore  an'  all,  an'  had  to  manage 

so. — 

Jes'  bein'  a  War-widder,  an'  her  pension  mighty  slim, 
She'd  take  in  weavin',  er  work  out,  er  anything  fer  him ! 

An'    little   Johnts    was   puny-like— but   law,    the    nerve   he 

had!— 
You'd  want  to  kind  o'  pity  him,  but  couldn't,  very  bad, — 

163 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

• 

His  pants  o'  army-blanket  an'  his  coat  o'  faded  blue 
Kep'  hintin'  of  his  father  like,  an*  pity  wouldn't  do ! 

So  we  collogued  together,  onc't,  one  winter-time,  'at  we — 
Jes'  me  an*  mother  an'  the  girls,  an'  Wilse,  John-Jack  an' 

Free— 
Would  jine  an'  git  up  little  Johnts,  by  time  'at  Chris'mus 

come 
Some  sort  o'  doin's,  don't  you  know,  'at  would  surprise  him 

some. 

An'  so,  all  on  the  quiet,  Mother  she  turns  in  an'  gits 
Some  blue-janes — cuts  an'  makes  a  suit;  an*  then  sets  down 

an'  knits 

A  pair  o'  little  galluses  to  go  'long  with  the  rest— 
An'  putts  in  a  red-flannen  back  an'  buckle  on  the  vest. — 

The  little  feller'd  be'n  so  much  around  our  house,  you  see, 
An'  be'n  sich  he'p  to  her  an'  all,  an'  handy  as  could  be, 
'At  Mother  couldn't  do   too  much   fer   little  Johnts — No, 

sir! 
She  ust  to  jes'  declare  'at  "he  was  meat-an'-drink  to  her!" 

An'  Pinej',  Lide,  an'  Madaline  they  watch  their  chance  an' 

rid 
To  Fountaintown  with  Lijey's  folks;  an'  bought  a  book, 

they  did, 

O'  fairy  tales,  with  pictur's  in  ;  an'  got  a  little  pair 
O'  red-top  boots  'at  John-Jack  said  he'd  be'n  a-pricin'  there. 

An*  Lide  got  him  a  little  sword,  an'  Madaline,  a  drum  ; 
An'  shootin'-crackers — Lawzy-day !  an'  they're  so  danger- 
some! 

164 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An*  Piney,  ever'  time  the  rest  'ud  buy  some  other  toy, 
She'd  take  an'  turn  in  then  an*  buy  more  candy  f  er  the  boy  ! 

"Well,"  thinks-says-I,  when  they  got  back,  "your  pocket- 

books  is  dry!"— 

But  little  Johnts  was  there  hisse'f  that  afternoon,  so  I  — 
Well,  all  of  us  kep'  mighty  mum,  tel  we  got  him  away 
By    tellin'    him    be    shore    an'    come    to-morry  —  Chris'mus 

Day  — 


An'  fetch  his  mother  'long  with  him  !     An'  how  he  scud 

acrost 
The  fields  —  his  towhead,  in  the  dusk,  jes'  like  a  streak  o' 

frost  !— 
His  comfert  flutter'n'  as  he  run  —  an'  old  Tige,  don't  you 

know, 
A-jumpin'  high  fer  rabbits  an'  a-plowin*  up  the  snow! 

j»vjsh  Uriora  vm  Ik  ni  •JriivAM  larhons  ibia—  1nA 
It  must  'a'  be'n  'most  ten  that  night  afore  we  got  to  bed  — 

With  Wilse  an'  John-Jack  he'ppin'  us  ;  an'  Freeman  in  the 

shed, 
An'  Lide  out  with  the  lantern  while  he  trimmed  the  Chris' 

mus  Tree 
Out  of  a  little  scrub-oak-top  'at  suited  to  a  "T'M  T 

All  night  I  dreamp'  o'  hearin'  things  a-skulkin'  round  the 

place  — 
An'  "Old  Kriss,"  with  his  whiskers  off,  an'  freckles  on  his 

face- 
An'   reindeers,   shaped   like   shavin'-hosses   at  the   cooper- 

shop, 
A-stickin'  down  the  chimbly,  with  their  heels  out  at  the  top  ! 

165 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

By  time  'at  Mother  got  me  up   'twas  plum   daylight  an' 

more — 
The  front  yard  full  o'  neighbers  all  a-crowdin'  round  the 

door, 

With  Johnts's  mother  leadin' ;  yes — an'  little  Johnts  hisse'f , 
Set  up  on  Freeman's  shoulder,  like  a  jug  up  on  the  she'f  1 

Of  course  I  can't  describe  it  when  they  all  got  in  to  where 
We'd  conjered  up  the  Chris'mus  Tree  an'  all  the  fixinvs 

there  !— 
Per  all  the  shouts  o'  laughture — clappin*  hands,  an'  crackin' 

jokes, 

Was  heap  o'  kissin'  goin'  on  amongst  the  women-folks : — 

— !  iaoi't 

Fer,  lo-behold-ye !  there  they  had  that  young-un ! — An'  his 

chin 

A-wobblin'  like ; — an',  shore  enough,  at  last  he  started  in — 
An' — sich  another  bellerin',  in  all  my  mortal  days, 
I  never  heerd,  er  'spect  to  hear,  in  woe's  app'inted  ways ! 

An*  Mother  grabs  him  up  an'  says :    "It's  more'n  he  can 
, 
bear — 

It's    all   too   suddent    fer    the   child,    an'   too    su'prisin* ! — 

There!" 
"Oh,  no  it  ain't" — sobbed  little  Johnts — "I  ain't  su'prised — 

but  I'm 
A-cryin'  'cause  I  watched  you  all,  an'  knowed  it  all  the 

time !" 


diiw 
166 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


$p  The  Boys'  Candidate 

I"  AS'  time  'at  Uncle  Sidney  come, 
-L^    He  bringed  a  watermelon  home — • 

An'  half  the  boys  in  town 
Come  taggin*  after  him. — An'  he 
Says,  when  we  et  it, — "Gracious  me! 

'S  the  boy-house  fell  down?" 

Ibl.i'ltED  9ffe" '*{K  9fl2  filA 

v    ^'nimoD^iV  iBrfW 
po  77/.£  Bumblebee 

YOU  better  not  fool  with  a  Bumblebee  !— 
Ef  you  don't  think  they  can  sting — you'll  see ! 
They're  lazy  to  look  at,  an'  kind  o'  go 
Buzzin'  an'  bummin'  aroun'  so  slow, 
An'  ac'  so  slouchy  an'  all  fagged  out, 
Danglin'  their  legs  as  they  drone  about 
The  hollyhawks  'at  they  can't  climb  in 
'Ithout  ist  a-tumble-un  out  ag'in! 
Wunst  I  watched  one  climb  clean  'way 
In  a  jimson-blossom,  I  did,  one  day, — 
An'  I  ist  grabbed  it — an'  nen  let  go — 
An'  "Ooh-ooh!   Honey!   I  told  ye  so!" 
Says  The  Raggedy  Man ;  an'  he  ist  run 
An'  pullt  out  the  stinger,  an'  don't  laugh  none, 
An'  says :    "They  has  be'n  folks,  I  guess, 
'At  thought  I  wuz  predjudust,  more  er  less, — 
Yit  I  still  muntain  'at  a  Bumblebee 
Wears  out  his  welcome  too  quick  f  er  me !" 

167 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

pi      When  the  World  Bu'sts  Through 
[CASUALLY  SUGGESTED  BY  AN  EARTHQUAKE] 

WHERE'S  a  boy  a-goin', 
An'  what's  he  goin'  to  do, 
An*  how's  he  goin'  to  do  it, 

When  the  world  bu'sts  through? 
Ma  she  says  "she  can't  tell 
What  we're  comin'  to  !" 
An'  Pop  says  "he's  ist  skeered 
Clean — plum — through  !" 

S'pose  we'd  be  a-playin' 

Out  in  the  street, 
An'  the  ground  'ud  split  up 

'Bout  forty  feet!— 
Ma  says  "she  ist  knows 

We  'ud  tumble  in"; 
An'  Pop  says  "he  bets  you 

Nen  we  wouldn't  grin !" 
ifcsy/1  nevh  drnib  fwio  b-JiblBw  I  J^mjW 
S'pose  we'd  ist  be  'tendin* 

Like  we  had  a  show, 
Down  in  the  stable 

Where  we  mustn't  go. — 
Ma  says,  "The  earthquake 

Might  make  it  fall"; 
An'  Pop  says,  "More'n  like 

Swaller  barn  an'  all!" 
"Jorri  isl  ybittii  GO}  3mo:>taw  «iiff  IIJQ  di£'j\Y 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Landy !  ef  we  both  wuz 

Runnin'  'way  from  school, 
Out  in  the  shady  woods 

Where  it's  all  so  cool ! — 
Ma  says  "a  big  tree 

Might  sqush  our  head"; 
An*  Pop  says,  "Chop  'em  out 

Both— killed— dead !" 

But  where's  a  boy  goin', 

An'  what's  he  goin'  to  do, 
An'  how's  he  goin'  to  do  it, 

Ef  the  world  bu'sts  through? 
Ma  she  says  "she  can't  tell 

What  we're  comin'  to  !" 
An'  Pop  says  "he's  ist  skeered 

Clean— plum— through !" 


A  Prospective  Glimpse 

JANEY  Pettibone's  the  best 
Little  girl  an'  purtiest 
In  this  town !  an'  lives  next  door, 
Up-stairs  over  their  old  store. 

Little  Janey  Pettibone 
An'  her  Ma  lives  all  alone, — 
'Cause  her  Pa  broke  up,  an*  nen 
Died  'cause  they  ain't  rich  again. 
169 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Little  Janey's  Ma  she  sews 
Fer  my  Ma  sometimes,  an'  goes 
An'  gives  music-lessuns — where 
People's  got  pianers  there. 

But  when  Janey  Pettibone 

Grows  an'  grows,  like  I'm  a-growin', 

Nen  I'm  go'  to  keep  a  store, 

An'  sell  things — an'  sell  some  more — - 


Till  I'm  ist  as  rich ! — An'  nen 
Her  Ma  can  be  rich  again, — • 
Ef  I'm  rich  enough  to  own 
Little  Janey  Pettibone ! 


pj  The  Old  Tramp 

A  OLD  Tramp  slep'  in  our  stable  wunst 
An*  The  Raggedy  Man  he  caught 
An'  roust  him  up,  an'  chased  him  off 
Clean  out  through  our  back  lot! 

An'  th*  old  Tramp  hollered  back  an'  said,— 
"You're  a  purty  man  ! — You  air  ! — 

With  a  pair  o'  eyes  like  two  fried  eggs, 
An'  a  nose  like  a  Bartlutt  pear !" 
An'  Pm%affoJU  Hjj^yik  ajsfciarf  'ft  A 


bsiCI 
170 


THE    HOOSIER    BOOK 


p^  The  Pet  Coon 

NOEY  Bixler  ketched  him,  an*  fetched  him  in  to  me 
When  he's  ist  a  little  teenty-weenty  baby-coon 
'Bout  as  big  as  little  pups,  an'  tied  him  to  a  tree ; 

An'  Pa  gived  Noey  fifty  cents,  when  he  come  home  at 

noon. 
Ncn  he  buyed  a  chain  fer  him,  an'  little  collar,  too, 

An'  sawed  a  hole  in  a'  old  tub  an'  turnt  it  upside  down ; 

An'  little  f eller'd  stay  in  there  and  won't  come  out  fer  you — 

'Tendin'  like  he's  kind  o'  skeered  o'  boys  'at  lives  in  town. 

Now  he  ain't  af card  a  bit !  he's  ist  so  fat  an'  tame, 

We  on'y  chain  him  up  at  night,  to  save  the  little  chicks. 
Holler  "Greedy!  Greedy!"  to  him,  an'  he  knows  his  name, 

An'  here  he'll  come  a-waddle-un,  up  fer  any  tricks ! 
He'll  climb  up  my  leg,  he  will,  an'  waller  in  my  lap, 

An'  poke  his  little  black  paws  'way  in  my  pockets  where 
They's  beechnuts,  er  chinkypins,  er  any  little  scrap 

Of  anything  'at's  good  to  eat — an'  he  don't  care! 
G '• ; :« ?3fJ*^B  •  3*^  ni   noirvkj^ug  to .  flotga.'n.qxa  .boxft  *o  Jioa  A 
An'  he's  as  spunky  as  you  please,  an'  don't  like  dogs  at 
all.— 

Billy  Miller's  black-an'-tan  tackled  him  one  day, 
An'  "Greedy"  he  ist  kind  o'  doubled  all  up  like  a  ball, 

An'  Billy's  dog  he  gived  a  yelp  er  two  an'  runned  away ! 
An'  nen  when  Billy  fighted  me,  an'  hit  me  with  a  bone, 

An'   Ma  she  purt'  nigh  ketched  him  as  he  dodged  an' 

scooted  through 
The  fence,  she  says,  "You  better  let  my  little  boy^  alone, 

Er  'Greedy,'  next  he  whips  yer  dog,  shall  whip  you,  too !" 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


P5  Naughty  Claude 


w 


PHEN  Little  Claude  was  naughty  wunst 

At  dinner-time,  an'  said 
He  won't  say  "Thank  you"  to  his  Ma, 

She  maked  him  go  to  bed 
An'  stay  two  hours  an'  not  git  up, — 

So  when  the  clock  struck  Two, 
Nen  Claude  says, — "Thank  you,  Mr.  Clock, 
•   I'm  much  obleeged  to  you!" 
.nv/oi  m  aavi!  Jc*      drf  'o  !&.&      'S  -  ' 


96  "The  Preacher's  Boy" 


T    RTCKOLLECT   the   little  tad,  back,   years   and   years 

J-  ago — 

"The  Preacher's  Boy"  that  every  one  despised  and  hated 
so! 

A  meek-faced  little  feller,  with  white  eyes  and  foxy  hair, 

And  a  look  like  he  expected  ser'ous  trouble  everywhere : 

A  sort  o'  fixed  expression  of  suspicion  in  his  glance ; 

His  bare  feet  always  scratched  with  briers;  and  green 
stains  on  his  pants ; 

Molasses-marks  along  his  sleeves;  his  cap-rim  turned  be 
hind — 

And  so  it  is  "The  Preacher's  Boy"  is  brought  again  to 
mind! 

My  fancy  even  brings  the  sly  marauder  back  so  plain, 
I  see  him  jump  our  garden-fence  and   slip  off  down  the 
lane; 

172 


THE   HOOSIKR   BOOK 

And^I  seem  to  holler  at  him  and  git  back  the  old  reply: 
"Oh,  no :  your  peaches  is  too  green  f  er  such  a  worm  as  I !" 
Fer  he  scorned  his   father's  phrases — every  holy  one  he 

had— 
"As  good  a  man,"  folks  put  it,  "as  that  boy  of  his  was 

bad !" 
And  again  from  their  old  buggy-shed,  I  hear  the  "rod  un- 

spared"— 
Of  course  that  never  "spoiled  the  child"  for  which  nobody 

cared ! 

If  any  neighber  ever  found  his  gate  without  a  latch, 
Or  rines  around  the  edges  of  his  watermelon-patch; 
His  pasture-bars  left  open ;  or  his  pump-spout  chocked  with 

clay, 
He'd   swear   'twas   "that   infernal    Preacher's    Boy,"    right 

away! 
When  strings  was  stretched  acrost  the  street  at  night,  and 

some  one  got 

An  everlastin'  tumble,  and  his  nose  broke,  like  as  not, 
And  laid  it  on  "The  Preacher's  Boy" — no  powers,  low  ner 

high, 
Could  ever  quite  substantiate  that  boy's  alibi! 

And  did  nobody  like  the  boy? — Well,  all  the  pets  in  town 
Would  eat  out  of  his  fingers;  and  canaries  would  come 

down 
And  leave  their  swingin'  perches  and  their  fish-bone  jist  to 

pick 

The  little  warty  knuckles  that  the  dogs  would  leap  to  lick. — 
No  little  snarlin',  snappin'  fiste  but  what  would  leave  his 

bone 
To  foller,  ef  he  whistled,  in  that  tantalizin'  tone 

173 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

That  made  a  goods-box  whittler  blasphemetisly  protest 
"He  couldn't  tell,  'twixt  dog  and  boy,  which  one  was  orn- 
riest  !" 

'Twas  such  a  little  cur  as  this,  onc't,  when  the  crowd  was 

thick 

Along  the  streets,  a  drunken  corner-loafer  tried  to  kick, 
When  a  sudden  foot  behind  him  tripped  him  up,  and  falling' 

so 
He  "marked  his  man,"  and  jerked  his  gun  —  drawed  up  and 

let  'er  go  ! 
And  the  crowd  swarmed  round  the  victim  —  holding  close 

against  his  breast 

The  little  dog  unharmed,  in  arms  that  still,  as  they  caressed, 
Grew  rigid  in  their  last  embrace,  as  with  a  smile  of  joy 
He  recognized  the  dog  was  saved.     So  died  "The  Preach 

er's  Boy"! 
'l)fi£  ^rfgltttB  J391J?,  aril  ieo-i3-G 


blno'J  I 


When  it  appeared,  before  the  Squire,  that  fatal  pistol-ball 
Was  fired  at  "a  dangerous  beast,"  and  not  the  boy  at  all, 
And  the  facts  set  forth  established — it  was  like-befittin' 

then 

To  order  out  a  possy  of  the  "city  councilmen' 
To  kill  the  dog!     But,  strange  to  tell,  they  searched  the 

country  round, 

And  never  hide-ner-hair  of  that  "said"  dog  was  ever  found  ! 
And,  somehow,  then  I  sort  o'  thought — and  half-way  think, 

to-day — 
The  spirit  of  "The  Preacher's  Boy"  had  whistled  him  away. 

-ilt.ll  'iiiqq.£/!e  ,'r?ih«na '  slttjl  uVl 


174 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


p/  An  Impetuous  Resolve 

WHEN  little  Dickie  Swope's  a  man, 
He's  go'  to  be  a  Sailor ; 
An'  little  Hamey  Tincher,  he's 

A-go'  to  be  a  Tailor  ; 
Bud  Mitchell,  he's  a-go'  to  be 
A  stylish  Carriage-Maker; 
An'  when  /  grow  a  grea'-big  man, 

I'm  go'  to  be  a  Baker ! 
;im   [•[?£  i^Jsw   v^flt  JEflf  5ife^v^   03  sis  ssva  girl  bnA 

An'  Dick'll  buy  his  sailor-suit 

O'  Hame ;  an'  Hame'll  take  it 
An'  buy  as  fine  a  double-rig 

As  ever  Bud  kin  make  it: 
An'  nen  all  three'll  drive  roun'  fer  mes 

An'  we'll  drive  off  togevver, 
A-slingin'  pie-crust  'long  the  road 

Ferever  an'  f erever ! 


po3  The  Man  in  the  Moon 

SAID  The  Raggedy  Man,  on  a  hot  afternoon: 
My! 

Sakes ! 

What  a  lot  o'  mistakes 

Some  little   folks  makes  on  The  Man   in   the   Moon! 
But  people  that's  be'n  up  to  see  him,  like  me, 
And  calls   on   him   frequent  and   intimuttly, 

1/5 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Might  drop   a   few   facts   that  would  interest  you 
Clean ! 

Through ! — 

If  you  wanted  'em  to — 
Some  actual  facts  that  might  interest  you ! 

O  The  Man  in  the  Moon  has  a  crick  in  his  back; 
Whee ! 

Whimm ! 

Ain't  you  sorry  for  him? 

And  a  mole  on  his  nose  that  is  purple  and  black ; 
And  his  eyes  are  so  weak  that  they  water  and  run 
If  he  dares  to  dream  even  he  looks   at  the   sun, — 
So  he  jes'  dreams  of  stars,  as  the  doctors  advise— 
My! 

Eyes ! 

But  isn't  he  wise — 
To  jes'  dream  of  stars,  as  the  doctors  advise? 

']'i>£0-i  j'fo  anor^trt^fq-'niiml^A 
And  The  Man  in  the  Moon  has  a  boil  on  his  ear— 
Whee! 

"Whing ! 

What  a  singular  thing ! 

J  know!   but  these   facts   are   authentic,   my  dear,— 
There's  a  boil  on  his  ear ;  and  a  corn  on  his  chin — 
He   calls   it  a   dimple — but  dimples    stick  in — 
Yet   it   might   be   a    dimple   turned    over,   you   know! 
Whang ! 
Ho! 

Why,  certainly  so  ! — 
It   might   be    a    dimple   turned    over,   you    know ! 


176 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  The  Man  in   the  Moon  has  a  rheumatic  knee — 
Gee! 

Whizz ! 

What  a  pity  that  is! 
And  his  toes  have  worked  round  where  his  heels  ought  to 

be.— 

So  whenever  he  wants  to  go  North  he  goes  South, 
And  comes  back  with  porridge-crumbs  all  round  his  mouth, 
And  he  brushes  them   off   with   a  Japanese   fan, 
Whing ! 

Whann! 

What  a  marvelous  man  ! 
What  a  very  remarkably  marvelous  man ! 

And  The  Man  in  the  Moon,   sighed  The  Raggedy  Man, 
Gits ! 
So . 

Sullonesome,  you  know, — 
Up  there  by  hisse'f   sence   creation  began ! — 
That  when   I   call  on   him   and  then   come  away, 
He  grabs  me  and  holds  me  and  begs  me  to  stay,— 
Till — Well!  if  it  wasn't  fer  Jimmy-cum-jim, 
Dadd ! 
Limb  1 

I'd  go  pardners  with  him — 

Jes!  jump  my  job  here  and  be  pardners  with  him! 
!  i9mo'>  *nf[>bbO  vIBH  mdw   //c>T!vAs!Yn niton  acf  fnoV/ 


177 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


pp  #*'%  Goo  din' 

I  xsiriW 

y4  fo'#  />tVc<>  o'  />zV,  and  a  fo'#  />tVf£  o'  puddin'  — 
7  /aid  it  all  by  fcr  little  Billy  Goodin'! 

—  BOY-POET. 

LOOK  so  neat  an'  sweet  in  all  yer  frills  an'  fancy  pleatin'  ! 
Better  shet  yer  kitchen,  though,  afore  you  go  to  Meet- 
in'! 

Better  hide  yer  mince-meat  an'  stewed  fruit  an'  plums! 
Better  hide  yer  pound-cake  an'  bresh  away  the  crumbs  ! 
Better  hide  }^er  cubbord-key  when  Billy  Goodin'  comes, 
A-eatin'  !  an'  a-eatin'  !  an'  a-eatin'  ! 

Sight  o*  Sund  'y-doin's  'at  ain't  done  in  Meetin'  ! 
Sun  acrost  yer  garden-patch  a-pourin'  an'  a-beatin'  ; 

Meller  apples  drappin'  in  the  weeds  an'  roun'  the  groun'  — 
Clingstones  an'  sugar-pears  a-ist  a-plunkin'  down  !  — 
Better  kind  o'  comb  the  grass  'fore  Billy  comes  aroun' 

A-eatin'  !  an'  a-eatin'  !  an'  a-eatin'  ! 
'•'  >  ;.-vtM!  \-\\\  w-jHcmm'j  \  i~j\  j-'naiiw  it  M  \\\-S-\\  —  lliT 

Billy  Goodin'  ain't  a-go'  to  go  to  any  Meetin'! 

We  'ull  watch  an'  ketch  an'  give  the  little  sneak  a  beatin'  !  — 
Better  hint  we  want'o  stay  'n*  snoop  yer  grapes  an'  plums  ! 
Better  eat  'em  all  yerse'f  an'  suck  yer  stingy  thumbs  !  — 
Won't  be  nothin'  anyhow  when  Billy  Goodin'  comes  ! 
A-eatin'  !  an'  a-eatin'  !  an'  a-eatin'  ! 


178 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


IOO     Prior  to  Miss  Belle's  Appearance 

'ttlbm  ia%I— V^hjsrQ  ,\;3rfl  ^\ 

WHAT  makes  you  come  /j<?n>  fer, 
So  much  to  our  house? — Say? 
Come  to  see  our  big  sister ! 
An'  Charley  he  says  'at  you  kissed  her 
An'  he  ketched  you,  th'uther  day  I— 
Didn't  you,  Charley? — But  we  p'omised  Belle 
An*  crossed  our  heart  to  never  to  tell — 
'Cause  she  gived  us  some  o'  them-er 
Chawklliitrdrops  'at  you  bringed  to  her ! 

Charley  he's  my  little  b'uther — 

An'  we  has  a-mostest  fun, 
Don't  we,  Charley? — Our  Muther, 
Whenever  we  whips  one-another, 

Tries  to  whip  us — an'  we  run — 
Don't  we,  Charley? — An'  nen,  bime-by, 
Nen  she  gives  us  cake — an'  pie — 
Don't  she,  Charley? — when  we  come  in 
An'  p'omise  never  to  do  it  ag'in ! 

~:-rrav33  m'l     .  ,Ji  fmA 

He's  named  Charley. — I'm  Willie — 

An'  I'm  got  the  purtiest  name ! 
But  Uncle  Bob  he  calls  me  "Billy"— 
Don't  he,  Charley? — 'N'  our  filly 

We  named  "Billy,"  the  same 
1st  like  me !    An'  our  Ma  said 
'At  "Bob  puts  foolishnuss  into  our  head  !'5 
Didn't  she,  Charley? — An'  she  don't  know 
Much  about  boys!    'Cause  Bob  said  so! 
179 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Baby's  a  funniest  feller ! 

Nain't  no  hair  on  his  head— 
Is  they,  Charley? — It's  meller 
Wite  up  there !    An'  ef  Belle  er 

Us  ask  wuz  we  that  way,  Ma  said, — 
Yes;  an'  yer  Pa's  head  wuz  soft  as  that, 
An'  it's  that  way  yet ! — An'  Pa  grabs  his  hat 
An'  says,  "Yes,  childern,  she's  right  about  Pa — 
'Cause  that's  the  reason  he  married  yer  Ma !" 

An'  our  Ma  says  'at  "Belle  couldn' 

Ketch  nothin'  at  all  but  ist  'bows'  " — 
An'  Pa  says  'at  "you're  soft  as  puddun !" — 
An'  Uncle  Bob  says  "you're  a  good-un — 

'Cause  he  can  tell  by  yer  nose !" — • 
Didn'  he,  Charley? — An'  when  Belle'll  play 
In  the  poller  on  th'  pianer,  some  day, 
Bob  makes  up  funny  songs  about  you, 
Till  she  gits  mad — like  he  wants  her  to ! 

Our  sister  Fanny  she's  'leven 

Years  old !    'At's  mucher  'an  I — 
Ain't  it,  Charley?     .     .     .     I'm  seven! — 
But  our  sister  Fanny's  in  Heaven! 

Nere's  where  you  go  ef  you  die ! — 
Don't  you,  Charley ! — Nen  you  has  wings— 
Ist  like  Fanny! — an'  purtiest  things! — 
Don't  you,  Charley? — An'  nen  you  can  fly — 
Ist  fly— an'  ever'th'mg !     .     .     .    Wisht  I'd  die ! 


!  02  bi&z  doH  jjaifxO'    \iv/i<A  iuodi; 
180 


THE   IIOOSIER   BOOK 


loi  She  "Displains"  It 


"IT  AD,  too!" 

So  contended  Bess  and  May— 


"Hadn't,  neither!" 


Neighbor  children,  who  were  boasting 
Of  their  grandmammas,  one  day. 

— -gcmnj*  orij  'jgnr&i;  r->rro<?  sift  borfonrhsg  9 A  08 

"Had,  too!" 
"Hadn't,  neither!" 

A  11    it.       J-J-T  1 

All  the  difference  begun 

r>      nr      f  •  1     ,, 

.By  May  s  saying  she  d  /te'o  grandmas — 

While  poor  Bess  had  only  one. 

!  Don-sop'       :  on-oH      w!  s^ll  .iM  O" 

"Had,  too!" 

"Hadn't,  neither!"   :|m  ^ 
Tossing  curls,  and  kinks  of  friz! — 

"How  could  you  have  two  gran'muvvers 
When  ist  one  is  all  they  is?" 


:•'&  O2  UK  fifiw  3.oioY  arfT 
"Had,  too!" 

"Hadn't,  neither! 
'Cause  ef  you  had  two"  said  Bess, 

"You'd  displain  it!"     Then  May  answered, 
"My  gran'mas  wuz  twins,  I  guess ! 
02  ai  ifioittB  ™l— !r>rl  :  o-<  'o  i.so  ieriT 

i — r?£/f$  t?T-i  lii  Tstiv/ov  DnA. 
.    -lana^a  ijiifiil  f^ofii  3th  //oP  I  hnA 
"!  sv3f  IL-J{  1o  •rjlltx  osii  nsrfT 
181 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 
102  The  Jolly  Miller 

[RESTORED  ROMAUNT] 

IT  was  a  Jolly  Miller  lived  on  the  River  Dee ; 
He  looked  upon  his  piller,  and  there  he  found  a  flea 
"O  Mr.  Flea !  you  have  bit  me, 

And  you  shall  sh  Drely  die !" 
So  he  scrunched  his  bones  ag'inst  the  stones — 
And  there  he  let  him  lie ! 

'Twas  then  the  Jolly  Miller  he  laughed  and  told  his  wife, 
And  she  laughed  fit  to  kill  her,  and  dropped  her  carving- 
knife  ! — 
"O  Mr.  Flea  !"    "Ho-ho  !"    "Tee-hee  !" 

The}'-  both  laughed  fit  to  kill, 
Until  the  sound  did  almost  drownd 

The  rumble  of  the  mill! 

"Laugh  on,  my  Jolly  Miller!  and  Missus  Alillcr,  too! — 
But  there's  a  wee  ping -wilier  will  soon  wave  over  you!" 
The  voice  was  all  so  awful  small — 

So  very  small  and  slim  ! — 
He  durst'  infer  that  it  was  her, 

Ner  her  infer  'twas  him! 

That  night  the  Jolly  Miller,  says  he,  "It's,  Wifey  dear, 
That  cat  o'  yourn,  I'd  kill  her ! — her  actions  is  so  queer, — 
She's  rubbin'  'g'inst  the  grindstone-legs, 

And  yowlin'  at  the  sky — 
And  I  'low  the  moon  hain't  greener 

Than  the  yaller  of  her  eye!" 
182 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  as  the  Jolly  Miller  went  chuckle-un  to  bed, 

Was  Somepin'  jerked  his  piller  from  underneath  his  head! 

"O  Wife,"  says  he,  on-easi-lee, 

"Fetch  here  that  lantern  there  I" 
But  Somepin'  moans  in  thunder-tones, 

"You  fetch  it  ef  you  dare!" 

'Twas  then  the  Jolly  Miller  he  trimbled  and  he  quailed — 
And  his  wife  choked  until  her  breath  come  back  'n'   she 

wailed! 
And  "Oh!"  cried  she,  "it  is  the  Flea, 

All  white  and  pale  and  wann — 
He's  got  you  in  his  clutches,  and 

He's  bigger  than  a  man!" 

"Ho!  ho!  my  Jolly  Miller"  (fer  'twas  the  Flea,  fer  shore!}, 
"I  reckon  you'll  not  rack  my  bones  ner  scrunch  'em  any 

more!" 
Then  the  Flea-Ghost  he  grabbed  him  clos't, 

With  many  a  ghastly  smile, 
And  from  the  door-step  stooped  and  hopped 

About  four  hunderd  mile  ! 


At  Aunty's  House 

ONE  time,  when  we'z  at  Aunty's  house — 
'Way  in  the  country! — where 
They's  ist  but  woods — an'  pigs,  an'  cows — • 
An'  all's  outdoors  an'  air ! — 

183 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  orchurd-swmg ;  an'  churry-trees — 
An'  churries  in  'em ! — Yes,  an'  these- 
Here  redhead  birds  steals  all  they  please, 

An'  tetch  'em  ef  you  dare ! — 
W'y,  wunst,  one  time,  when  we  wuz  there, 
We  ct  out  on  the  porch! 

Wite  where  the  cellar  door  wuz  shut 

The  table  wuz ;  an'  I 
Let  Aunty  set  by  me  an'  cut 

My  vittuls  up — an'  pie. 
'Tuz  awful  funny !  I  could  see 
The  redheads  in  the  churry-tree ; 
An'  beehives,  where  you  got  to  be 

So  keerful,  goin'  by; — 
An'  "Comp'ny"  there  an'  all ! — an'  we — 
We  et  out  on  the  porch! 

An'  I  ist  et  p'surves  an'  things 

'At  Ma  don't  'low  me  to — 
An'chickun-gizzurds — (don't  like  wings 

Like  Parunts  does  !  do  you?) 
An'  all  the  time  the  wind  blowed  there, 
An'  I  could  feel  it  in  my  hair, 
An'  ist  smell  clover  £z;<?r'where ! — 

An'  a'  old  redhead  flew 
Purt'  nigh  wite  over  my  high-chair, 
When  we  et  on  the  porch! 


o 


184 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


104  The  Raggedy  Man 

OTHE  Raggedy  Man  !  He  works  f  er  Pa ; 
An'  he's  the  goodest  man  ever  you  saw ! 
He  comes  to  our  house  dW'fcry  day, 
An'  waters  the  horses,  an'  feeds  'em  hay ; 
An'  he  opens  the  shed — an'  we  all  ist  laugh 
When  he  drives  out  our  little  old  wobble-ly  calf ; 
An'  nen — ef  our  hired  girl  says  he  can — 
He  milks  the  cow  fer  'Lizabuth  Ann. — 
Ain't  he  a*  awfu.l  good  Raggedy  Man? 
Raggedy !  Raggedy !  Raggedy  Man  ! 

W'y,  The  Raggedy  Man — he's  ist  so  good, 
He  splits  the  kindlin'  an'  chops  the  wood ; 
An'  nen  he  spades  in  our  garden,  too, 
An*  does  most  things  'at  boys  can't  do. — 
He  clumbed  clean  up  in  our  big  tree 
An'  shocked  a'  apple  down  fer  me — 
An'  'nother  'n',  too,  fer  'Lizabuth  Ann — 
An'  'nother  'n',  too,  fer  The  Raggedy  Man. — 
Ain't  he  a'  awful  kind  Raggedy  Man? 
Raggedy !  Raggedy !  Raggedy  Man  ! 

An'  The  Raggedy  Man  one  time  say  he 

Pick'  roast'  rambos  from  a'  orchurd-tree, 

An'  et  'em — all  ist  roast'  an'  hot ! — 

An'  it's  so,  too ! — 'cause  a  corn-crib  got 

Afire  one  time  an'  all  burn  down 

On  "The  Smoot  Farm,"  'bout  four  mile  from  town- 

B85 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

On  "The  Smoot  Farm" !   Yes — an'  the  hired  han' 
'At  worked  there  nen  'uz  The  Raggedy  Man  ! — 
Ain't  he  the  beatin'est  Raggedy  Man? 
Raggedy !  Raggedy !  Raggedy  Man  ! 

The  Raggedy  Man's  so  good  an'  kind 
He'll  be  our  "horsey,"  an'  "haw"-  an'  mind 
Ever'thing  'at  you  make  him  do — 
An*  won't  run  off — 'less  you  want  him  to ! 
I  drived  him  wunst  way  down  our  lane 
An'  he  got  skeered,  when  it  'menced  to  rain, 
An'  ist  rared  up  an'  squealed  and  run 
Purt'  nigh  away ! — an'  it's  all  in  fun ! 
Nen  he  skeered  ag'in  at  a'  old  tin  can    .    .    . 
Whoa !  y'  old  runaway  Raggedy  Man ! 
Raggedy !  Raggedy !  Raggedy  Man  ! 

An'  The  Raggedy  Man,  he  knows  most  rhymes, 
An'  tells  'em,  ef  I  be  good,  sometimes  : 
Knows  'bout  Giunts,  an'  Griffuns,  an'  Elves, 
An'  the  Squidgicum-Squees  'at  swallers  the'rselves  i 
An',  wite  by  the  pump  in  our  pasture-lot, 
He  showed  me  the  hole  'at  the  Wunks  is  got, 
'At  lives  'way  deep  in  the  ground,  an'  can 
Turn  into  me,  cr  'Lizabuth  Ann ! 
Er  Ala,  er  Pa,  er  The  Raggedy  Man ! 
Ain't  he  a  funny  old  Raggedy  Man? 
Raggedy  !  Raggedy !  Raggedy  Man  ! 

An*  wunst,  when  The  Raggedy  Man  come  late, 
An'  pigs  ist  root'  time  the  garden-gate, 
He  'tend  like  the  pigs  'uz  bears  an'  said, 
"Old  Bear-shooter'll  shoot  'em  dead !" 
186 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  race'  an*  chase'  'em,  an'  they'd  ist  run 
When  he  pint  his  hoe  at  'em  like  it's  a  gun 
An'  go  "Bang ! — Bang !"  nen  'tend  he  stan' 
An'  load  up  his  gun  ag'in  !  Raggedy  Man ! 
He's  an  old  Bear-shooter  Raggedy  Man ! 
Raggedy !  Raggedy !  Raggedy  Man  ! 

An'  sometimes  The  Raggedy  Man  lets  on 
We're  little  prince-children,  an'  old  King's  gone 
To  git  more  money,  an'  lef  us  there — 
Aiid  Robbers  is  ist  thick  ever'where ; 
An*  nen — ef  we  all  won't  cry,  fer  shore — 
The  Raggedy  Man  he'll  come  and  "  'splore 
The  Castul-halls,"  an'  steal  the  "gold"— 
An'  steal  us,  too,  an'  grab  an'  hold 
An'  pack  us  off  to  his  old  "Cave" ! — An' 

Haymow's  the  "cave"  o'  The  Raggedy  Man ! — 
Raggedy!  Raggedy!  Raggedy  Man! 

The  Raggedy  Man — one  time,  when  he 
Wuz  makin'  a  little  bow-'n'-orry  fer  me, 
Says  "When  you're  big  like  your  Pa  is, 
Air  you  go'  to  keep  a  fine  store  like  his — 
An'  be  a  rich  merchunt — an'  wear  fine  clothes? — 
Er  what  air  you  go'  to  be,  goodness  knows  ?" 
An'  nen  he  laughed  at  'Lizabuth  Ann, 
An'  I  says  "  'M  go'  to  be  a  Raggedy  Man  ! — 
I'm  ist  go'  to  be  a  nice  Raggedy  Man !" 
Raggedy!  Raggedy!  Raggedy  Man! 


I87 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


105  A  Boy's  Mother 

MY  mother  she's  so  good  to  me, 
Ef  I  was  good  as  I  could  be, 
I  couldn't  be  as  good — no,  sir ! — 
Can't  any  boy  be  good  as  her ! 

She  loves  me  when  I'm  glad  er  sad ; 
She  loves  me  when  I'm  good  er  bad ; 
An',  what's  a  funniest  thing,  she  says 
She  loves  me  when  she  punishes. 

I  don't  like  her  to  punish  me. — 
That  don't  hurt, — but  it  hurts  to  see 
Her  cryin'. — Nen  7  cry;  an'  nen 
We  both  cry  an'  be  good  again. 

She  loves  me  when  she  cuts  an'  sews 
My  little  cloak  an'  Sund'y  clothes ; 
An'  when  my  Pa  comes  home  to  tea, 
She  loves  him  most  as  much  as  me. 

She  laughs  an'  tells  him  all  I  said, 
An'  grabs  me  up  an'  pats  my  head : 
An'  I  hug  her,  an'  hug  my  Pa. 
An'  love  him  purt'  nigh  as  much  as  Ma. 


188 


THE   HOOSIKR   BOOK 


1 06  The  Fishing  Party 

WUNST  we  went  a-fishin'— Ale 
An'  my  Pa  an'  Ma  all  three, 
When  they  wuz  a  pic-nic,  'way 
Out  to  Ranch's  Woods,  one  day. 

An'  they  wuz  a  crick  out  there, 
Where  the  fishes  is,  an'  where 
Little  boys  'taint  big  an'  strong, 
Better  have  their  folks  along! 

My  Pa  he  ist  fished  an'  fished ! 
An'  my  Ma  she  said  she  wished 
Me  an'  her  was  home ;  an'  Pa 
Said  he  wished  so  worse'n  Ma. 

Pa  said  ef  you  talk,  er  say 
Anything,  er  sneeze,  er  play, 
Hain't  no  fish,  -alive  er  dead, 
Ever  go'  to  bite !  he  said. 

Purt'  nigh  dark  in  town  when  we 
Got  back  home ;  an'  Ma  says  she, 
Now  she'll  have  a  fish  fer  shore! 
An'  she  buyed  one  at  the  store. 

Nen  at  supper,  Pa  he  won't 
Eat  no  fish,  an'  says  he  don't 
Like  'em. — An'  he  pounded  me 
When  I  choked!   .   .   .   Ma,  didn't  he? 

189 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


107        The  Boy  Lives  on  Our  Farm 

THE  Boy  lives  on  our  Farm,  he's  not 
Afeard  o'  horses  none  ! 
An'  he  can  make  'em  lope,  er  trot, 

Er  rack,  er  pace,  er  run. 
Sometimes  he  drives  two  horses,  when 

He  comes  to  town  an'  brings 
A  wagon-full  o'  'taters  nen, 
An'  roastin'-ears  an'  things. 

Two  horses  is  "a  team,"  he  says,  — 

An'  when  you  drive  er  hitch, 
The  right-un's  a  "near-horse,"  I  guess, 

Er  "off"  —  I  don't  know  which.  —  • 
The  Boy  lives  on  our  Farm,  he  told 

Me,  too,  'at  he  can  see, 
By  lookin'  at  their  teeth,  how  old 

A  horse  is,  to  a  T  ! 

I'd  be  the  gladdest  boy  alive 

Ef  I  knowed  much  as  that, 
An'  could  stand  up  like  him  an'  drive, 

An'  ist  push  back  my  hat, 
Like  he  comes  skallyhootin'  through 

Our  alley,  with  one  arm 
A-wavin'  Fare-ye-well  !  to  you  — 

The  Boy  lives  on  our  Farm  ! 


fnbib  tiM   .   . 

190 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


108  The  Runaway  Boy 

WUNST  I  sassed  my  Pa,  an'  he 
Won't  stand  that,  an'  punished  me,- 
Nen  when  he  wuz  gone  that  day, 
I  slipped  out  an'  runned  away. 

I  tooked  all  my  copper-cents, 
An'  clumbed  over  our  back  fence 
In  the  jimpson-weeds  'at  growed 
Ever'where  all  down  the  road. 

Nen  I  got  out  there,  an'  nen 

I  runned  some — an'  runned  again 

When  I  met  a  man  'at  led 

A  big  cow  'at  shooked  her  head. 

I  went  down  a  long,  long  lane 
Where  was  little  pigs  a-play'n' ; 
An'  a  grea'-big  pig  went  "Booh  !" 
An'  jumped  up,  an'  skeered  me  too, 

Nen  I  scampered  past,  an'  they 
Was  somebody  hollered  "Hey !" 
An'  I  ist  looked  ever' where, 
An'  they  wuz  nobody  there. 

I  want  to,  but  I'm  'fraid  to  try 
To  go  back.   .   .   .   An'  by-an'-by, 
Somepin'  hurts  my  th'oat  inside — • 
An'  I  want  my  Ma — an*  cried. 

191 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Nen  a  grea'-big  girl  come  through 
Where's  a  gate,  an*  telled  me  who 
Am  1  ?  an'  ef  I  tell  where 
My  home's  at  she'll  show  me  there. 

But  I  couldn't  ist  but  tell 
What's  my  name;  an'  she  says  "well/ 
An*  she  tooked  me  up  an'  says 
"She  know  where  I  live,  she  guess." 

Nen  she  telled  me  hug  wite  close 
Round  her  neck ! — an'  off  she  goes 
Skippin'  up  the  street !    An'  nen 
Purty  soon  I'm  home  again. 

An'  my  Ma,  when  she  kissed  me, 
Kissed  the  big  girl  too,  an'  she 
Kissed  me — ef  I  p'omise  shore 
I  won't  run  away  no  more ! 


109  Our  Hired  Girl 

OUR  hired  girl,  she's  'Lizabuth  Ann ; 
An'  she  can  cook  best  things  to  eat ! 
She  ist  puts  dough  in  our  pie-pan, 

An'  pours  in  somepin'  'at's  good  and  sweet; 
An'  nen  she  salts  it  all  on  top 
With  cinnamon ;  an'  nen  she'll  stop 
An'  stoop  an'  slide  it,  ist  as  slow, 
In  th'  old  cook-stove,  so's  'twon't  slop 
192 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  git  all  spilled;  nen  bakes  it,  so 
It's  custard  pie,  first  thing  you  know  1 

An*  nen  she'll  say : 
"Clear  out  o'  my  way! 
They's  time  fer  work,  an'  time  fer  play!- 

Take  yer  dough,  an'  rim,  child,  run ! 

Er  I  cain't  git  no  cookin'  done  1" 

When  our  hired  girl  'tends  like  she's  mad, 

An'  says  folks  got  to  walk  the  chalk 
When  she's  around,  er  wisht  they  had, 

I  play  out  on  our  porch  an'  talk 
To  Th*  Raggedy  Man  'at  mows  our  lawn ; 
An'  he  says  "IV hew!"  an*  nen  leans  on 

His  old  crook-scythe,  and  blinks  his  eyes 
An*  sniffs  all  round  an'  says,  "I  swawn ! 

Ef  my  old  nose  don't  tell  me  lies, 

It  'pears  like  I  smell  custard-pies !" 
An'  nen  he'll  say, 

"Clear  out  o'  my  way ! 

They's  time  fer  work,  an'  time  fer  play ! 
Take  yer  dough,  an'  run,  child,  run ! 
Er  she  cain't  git  no  cookin'  done !" 

Wunst  our  hired  girl,  when  she 

Got  the  supper,  an'  we  all  et, 
An'  it  was  night,  an'  Ma  an'  me 

An'  Pa  went  wher'  the  "Social"  met, — 
An*  nen  when  we  come  home,  an'  see 
A  light  in  the  kitchen-door,  an'  we 

Heerd  a  maccordeun,  Pa  says  "Lan'- 
O'-Gracious!  who  can  her  beau  be?" 

193 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  I  marched  in,  an'  'Lizabuth  Ann 

Wuz  parchin'  corn  fer   The  Raggedy  Man  I 

Better  say 

"Clear  out  o'  the  way ! 
They's  time  fer  work,  an'  time  fer  play  I 

Take  the  hint,  an'  run,  child,  run ! 

Er  we  cain't  git  no  courtin*  done !" 


GREEN  FIELDS  AND   RUNNING 
BROOKS 


no       On  the  Banks  O'  Deer  Crick 

ON  THE  banks  o'  Deer  Crick  !     There's  the  place  fer 
me!— 

Worter  slidin'  past  ye  jes'  as  clair  as  it  kin  be  : 
See  yer  shadder  in  it,  and  the  shadder  o'  the  sky, 
And  the  shadder  o'  the  buzzard  as  he  goes  a-lazin*  by; 
Shadder  o'  the  pizen-vines,  and  shadder  o'  the  trees  — 
And  I  purt'  nigh  said  the  shadder  o'  the  sunshine  and  the 

breeze  ! 

Well  —  I  never  seen  the  ocean  ner  I  never  seen  the  sea  : 
On  the  banks  o'  Deer  Crick's  grand  enough  fer  me  ! 

On  the  banks  o'  Deer  Crick  —  mil'd  er  two  front  town  — 
'Long  tip  where  the  mill-race  comes  a-loafin'  down,  — 
Like  to  git  up  in  there  —  'mongst  the  sycamores  — 
And  watch  the  worter  at  the  dam,  a-f  rothin'  as  she  pours  : 
Crawl  out  on  some  old  log,  with  my  hook  and  line, 
Where  the  fish  is  jes'  so  thick  you  kin  see  'em  shine 
As  they  flicker  round  yer  bait,  coaxin'  you  to  jerk, 
Tel  yer  tired  ketchin'  of  'em,  mighty  nigh,  as  work! 

On  the  banks  o'  Deer  Crick  !  —  Allus  my  delight 
Jes'  to  be  around  there  —  take  it  day  er  night  !  — 
Watch  the  snipes  and  killdees  foolin'  half  the  day  — 
Er  these-'ere  little  worter-bugs  skootin'  ever'  way  !  — 

195 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

Snake-feeders  glancin'  round,  er  dartin'  out  o'  sight  ; 
And  dewfall,  and  bullfrogs,  and  lightnin'-bugs  at  night  — 
Stars  up  through  the  tree-tops  —  er  in  the  crick  below,  — 
And  smell  o'  mussrat  through  the  dark  clean  from  the  old 
by-o! 

Er  take  a  tromp,  some  Sund'y,  say,  'way  up  to  "Johnson's 

Hole," 

And  find  where  lie's  had  a  fire,  and  hid  his  fishin'-pole  : 
Have  yer  "dog-leg"  with  ye,  and  yer  pipe  and  "cut-and- 

dry"- 

Pocketful  o'  corn-bread,  and  slug  er  two  o'  rye,  — 
Soak  yer  hide  in  sunshine  and  waller  in  the  shade  — 
Like  the  Good  Book  tells  us  —  "where  there're  none  to  make 

afraid  !" 

Well  !  —  I  never  seen  the  ocean  ner  I  never  seen  the  sea  — 
On  the  banks  o'  Deer  Crick's  grand  enough  f  er  me  ! 


.-nwoi  frrf  b'lrtn-  obit?  13'jCl  *o  ajlnfid  3rfi  n 

in          How  John  Quit  the  Farm 

NOBODY  on  the  old  farm  here  but  Mother,  me  and 
John, 
Except,  of  course,  the  extry  he'p  when  harvest-time  come 

on  — 

And  then,  I  want  to  say  to  you,  we  needed  he'p  about, 
As  you'd  admit,  ef  you'd  'a'  seen  the  way  the  crops  turned 
out! 

A  better  quarter-section,  ner  a  richer  soil  warn't  found 
Than    this-here    old-home    place    o'    ourn    fer    fifty    miles 
around  !  — 

196 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

The  house  was  small — but  plenty-big  we  found  it  from  the 

day 
That  John — our  only  livin'  son — packed  up  and  went  away. 

You  see,  we  tuk  sich  pride  in  John — his  mother  more'n 

me — 
That's  natchurul ;  but  both  of  us  was  proud  as  proud  could 

be; 

Per  the  boy,  from  a  little  chap,  was  most  oncommon  bright, 
And  seemed  in  work  as  well  as  play  to  take  the  same 

delight. 

He  allus  went  a-whistlin'  round  the  place,  as  glad  at  heart 

As  robins  up  at  five  o'clock  to  git  an  airly  start ; 

And  many  a  time  'fore  daylight  Mother's  waked  me  up 
to  say — 

"Jes*  listen,  David ! — listen ! — Johnny's  beat  the  birds  to 
day  !" 

High-sperited  from  boyhood,  with  a  most  inquirin'  turn, — 
He  wanted  to  learn  ever'thing  on  earth  they  was  to  learn  : 
He'd  ast  more  plaguy  questions  in  a  mortal-minute  here 
Than  his  grandpap  in  Paradise  could  answer  in  a  year ! 

And  read!  w'y,  his  own  mother  learnt  him  how  to  read  and 

spell; 
And  "The  Childern  of  the  Abbey"— w'y,  he  knowed  that 

book  as  well 
At  fifteen  as  his  parents ! — and  "The  Pilgrim's  Progress," 

too — 
Jes'  knuckled  down,  the  shaver  did,  and  read  'em  through 

and  through ! 

197 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

At  eighteen,   Mother  'lowed  the  boy  must  have  a  better 

chance — 

That  we  ort  to  educate  him,  under  any  circumstance ; 
And  John  he  j'ined  his  mother,  and  they  ding-donged  and 

kep'  on, 
Tel  I  sent  him  off  to  school  in  town,  half  glad  that  he  was 

gone. 

But — I  missed  him — w'y,  of  course  I  did! — The  Fall  and 

Winter  through 

I  never  built  the  kitchen-fire,  er  split  a  stick  in  two, 
Er  fed  the  stock,  er  butchered,  er  swung  up  a  gambrel- 

pin, 
But  what  I  thought  o'  John,  and  wished  that  he  was  home 

ag'in. 

He'd    come,    sometimes — on    Sund'ys   most — and    stay   the 

Sund'y  out; 

And  on  Thanksgivin'-Day  he  'peared  to  like  to  be  about : 
But  a  change  was  workin'  on  him — he  was  stiller  than 

before, 
And  didn't  joke,  ner  laugh,  ner  sing  and  whistle  any  more. 

And  his  talk  was  all  so  proper ;  and  I  noticed,  with  a  sigh, 
He  was  tryin'  to  raise  side-whiskers,  and  had  on  a  striped 

tie, 

And  a  standin'-collar,  ironed  up  as  stiff  and  slick  as  bone ; 
And  a  breast-pin,  and  a  watch  and  chain  and  plug-hat  of 

his  own. 

But  when   Spring-weather  opened  out,   and  John   was  to 

come  home 
And  he'p  me  through  the  season,  I  was  glad  to  see  him 

come; 

198 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

But  my  happiness,  that  evening,  with  the  settin'  sun  went 

down, 
When  he  bragged  of  "a  position"  that  was  offered  him  in 

town. 

"But,"  says  I,  "you'll  not  accept  it?"     "W'y,  of  course  I 

will,"  says  he. — 

"This  drudgin'  on  a  farm,"  he  says,  "is  not  the  life  fer  me; 
I've  set  my  stakes  up  higher/'  he  continued,  light  and  gay, 
"And  town's  the  place  fer  me,  and  I'm  a-goin'  right  away!" 

And  go  he  did ! — his  mother  clingin'  to  him  at  the  gate, 
A-pleadin'  and  a-cryin';  but  it  hadn't  any  weight. 
I  was  tranquiller,  and  told  her  'twarn't  no  use  to  worry  so, 
And  enclasped  her  arms  from  round  his  neck  round  mine — 
and  let  him  go  ! 

I  felt  a  little  bitter  feelin*  foolin'  round  about 
The  aidges  of  my  conscience;  but  I  didn't  let  it  out; — 
I  simply  retch  out,  trimbly-like,  and  tuk  the  boy's  hand, 
And  though  I  didn't  say  a  word,  I  knowed  he'd  understand. 

And — well! — sence  then  the  old  home  here  was  mighty 

lonesome,  shore ! 

With  me,  a-workin'  in  the  field,  and  Mother  at  the  door, 
Her  face  ferever  to'rds  the  town,  and  fadin*  more  and 

more — 
Her  only  son  nine  miles  away,  a-clerkin'  in  a  store ! 

The  weeks  and  months  dragged  by  us ;  and  sometimes  the 

boy  would  write 

A  letter  to  his  mother,  sayin'  that  his  work  was  light, 
And  not  to  feel  oneasy  about  his  health  a  bit — 
Though  his  business  was  confinin',  he  was  gittin'  used  to  it. 
199 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  sometimes  he  would  write  and  ast  liow  /  was  gittin' 

on, 

And  ef  I  had  to  pay  out  much  fer  he'p  sence  he  was  gone ; 
And  how  the  hogs  was  doin',  and  the  balance  of  the  stock, 
And  talk  on  fer  a  page  er  two  jes'  like  he  used  to  talk. 

And  he  wrote,  along  'fore  harvest,  that  he  guessed  he 

would  git  home, 
Fer  business  would,  of  course,  be  dull  in  town.— But  he 

didn't  come : — 

We  got  a  postal  later,  sayin'  when  they  had  no  trade 
They  filled  the  time  "invoicin'  goods,"  and  that  was  why  he 

stayed. 

-  :>m<fr'bflHOi  afc>9n  fcifl  bauoi  mo"d  Z-H:  .••::;:;><; 
And  then  he  quit  a-writin'  altogether:    Not  a  word — 
Exceptin'  what  the  neighbers  brung  who'd  been  to  town 

and  heard 

What  store  John  was  clerkin'  in,  and  went  round  to  inquire 
If  they  could  buy  their  goods  there  less  and  sell  their 

produce  higher. 

And  so  the  Summer  faded  out,  and  Autumn  wore  away, 
And  a  keener  Winter  never  fetched  around  Thanksgivin'- 

Day! 

The  night  before  that  day  of  thanks  I'll  never  quite  fergit, 
The  wind  a-howlin*  round  the  house — it  makes  me  creepy 

yit! 

And  there  set  me  and  Mother — me  a-twistin'  at  the  prongs 
Of  a  green   scrub-ellum   forestick  with  a  vicious  pair  of 
tongs, 


200 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  Mother  sayin',  "David!    David!"  in  a'  undertone, 
As  though  she  thought  that  I  was  thinkin'  bad-words 
unbeknown. 

"I've  dressed  the  turkey,  David,  fer  to-morrow,"  Mother 

said, 
A-tryin'  to  wedge  some  pleasant  subject  in  my  stubborn 

head  — 
"And   the   mince-meat   I'm   a-mixin'   is   perfection   mighty 

nigh  ; 
And  the  pound-cake  is  delicious-rich — "    "Who'll  eat  'em?" 

I-says-I. 

"The  cramberries  is  drippin'-sweet,"  says  Mother,  runnin* 

on, 
P'tendin'  not  to  hear  me ; — "and  somehow   I  thought  of 

John 
All  the  time  they  was  a-jellin' — fer  you  know  they  allus 

was 
His  favorite — he  likes  'em  so !"     Says  I,  "Well  s'pose  he 

does?" 


"Oh,  nothin'  much !"  says  Mother,  with  a  quiet  sort  o' 

smile — 
"This  gentleman  behind  my  cheer  may  tell  you  after 

while !" 
And  as  I  turned  and  looked  around,  some  one  riz  up  and 

leant 
And  putt  his  arms  round  Mother's  neck,  and  laughed  in  low 

content. 

".YSW    rj'rx'JoM    KB'ff    -fl". 
201 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

"It's   me,"  he   says — "your    fool-boy   John,   come   back  to 

shake  your  hand ; 
Set  down  with  you,  and  talk  with  you,  and  make  you 

understand 

How  dearer  yit  than  all  the  world  is  this  old  home  that  we 
Will  spend  Thanksgivin'  in  fer  life — jes'  Mother,  you  and 

me !" 


Nobody  on  the  old  farm  here  but  Mother,  me  and  John, 
Except,  of  course,  the  extry  he'p  when  harvest-time  comes 

on  ; 

And  then,  I  want  to  say  to  you,  we  need  sich  he'p  about, 
As  you'd  admit,  ef  you  could  see  the  way  the  crops  turns 

out! 


112  His  Mother's  W  'a 


S  'ud  allus  haf  to  say 
Somepin'  'bout  "his  mother's  way."  — 
He  lived  hard-like  —  never  j'ined 
Any  church  of  any  kind.  — 
"It  was   Mother's  way,"  says  he, 
"To  be  good  enough  fer  me 
And  her  too,  —  and  cert'inly 

Lord  has  heerd  her  pray  !" 
Propped  up  on  his  dyin'  bed,  — 
"Shore  as  Heaven's  overhead, 
I'm  a-goin'  there,"  he  said  —  • 

"It  was  Mother's  way." 

202 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Jap  Miller 

JAP  MILLER  down  at  Martinsville's  the  blamedest 
feller  yit! 

When  he  starts  in  a-talkin'  other  folks  is  apt  to  quit ! — 
'Pears  like  that  mouth  o'  his'n  wuzn't  made  fer  nothin'  else 
But  jes'  to  argify  'em  down  and  gether  in  their  pelts: 
He'll  talk  you  down  on  tariff ;  er  he'll  talk  you  down  on 

tax, 
And  prove  the  pore  man  pays  'em  all — and  them's  about  the 

f  ac's  !— 

Religen,  law,  er  politics,  prize-fightin',  er  baseball — 
Jes'  tetch  Jap  up  a  little  and  he'll  post  you  'bout  'em  all. 

ol    ;' 

And  the  comicalest  feller  ever  tilted  back  a  cheer 
And  tuk  a  chaw  tobacker  kind  o'  like  he  didn't  keer.— 
There's  where  the  feller's  stren'th  lays, — he's  so  common- 
like  and  plain, — 
They  hain't  no   dude  about  old  Jap,   you  bet  you — nary 

grain ! 

They  'lected  him  to  Council  and  it  never  turned  his  head, 
And  didn't  make  no  differunce  what  anybody  said, — 
He  didn't  dress  no  finer,  ner  rag  out  in  fancy  clothes ; 
But  his  voice  in  Council-meetin's  is  a  turrer  to  his  foes. 

He's  fer  the  pore  man  ever'  time!     And  in  the  last  cam 
paign 

He  stumped  old  Morgan  County,  through  the  sunshine  and 
the  rain, 

And  helt  the  banner  up'ards  from  a-trailin'  in  the  dust 

And  cut  loose  on  monopolies  and  cuss'd  and  cuss'd  and 
cuss'd ! 

203 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

He'd  tell  some  funny  story  ever'  now  and  then,  you  know, 
Tel,  blame  it!  it  wuz  better'n  a  jack-o'-lantern  show! 
And  I'd  go  furder,  yit,  to-day,  to  hear  old  Jap  norate 
Than  any  high-toned  orator  'at  ever  stumped  the  State ! 

W'y,  that-air  blame  Jap  Miller,  with  his  keen  sircastic  fun, 
Has  got  more  friends  than  ary  candidate  'at  ever  run ! 
Don't  matter  what  his  views  is,  when  he  states  the  same 

to  you, 

They  allus  coincide  with  yourn,  the  same  as  two  and  two  : 
You  can't  take  issue  with  him — er,  at  least,  they  hain't  no 

sense 

In  startin'  in  to  clown  him,  so  you  better  not  commence. — 
The  best  way's  jes'  to  listen,  like  your  humble  servant  does, 
And  jes'  concede  Jap  Miller  is  the  best  man  ever  wuz! 


H4  Jack  the  Giant  Killer 

BAD   BOY'S   VERSION 

TELL  you  a  story — an'  it's  a  f ac' : — 
Wunst  wuz  a  little  boy,  name  wuz  Jack, 
An'  he  had  a  sword  an'  buckle  an'  strap 
Maked  of  gold,  an'  a  "  'visibul  cap" ; 
An'  he  kilkd  Gi'nts  'at  et  whole  cows — 
Th'  horns  an'  all — an'  pigs  an'  sows! 
But  Jack,  his  golding  sword  wuz,  oh ! 
So  awful  sharp  'at  he  could  go 
204 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An*  cut  thf  ole  Gi'nts  clean  in  too 

Tore  'ey  knowed  what  he  wuz  goin'  to  do ! 

An*  one  ole  Gi'nt,  he  had  four 

Heads,  and  name  wuz  "Bumblebore" — 

An'  he  wuz  feared  o'  Jack — 'cause  he, 

Jack,  he  killed  six— five— ten— three, 

An'  all  o'  th'  uther  ole  Gi'nts  hut  him : 

An'  thay  wuz  a  place  Jack  haf  to  swim 

'Fore  he  could  git  t'  ole  "Bumblebore"- 

Nen  thay  wuz  "griffuns"  at  the  door : 

But  Jack,  he  thist  plunged  in  an*  swum 

Clean  acrost;  an'  when  he  come 

To  th'  uther  side,  he  thist  put  on 

His  "  'visibul  cap,"  an'  nen,  dog-gone ! 

You  couldn't  see  him  at  all ! — An'  so 

He  slewed  the  "griffuns"— boff,  you  know! 

Nen  wuz  a  horn  hunged  over  his  head, 

High  on  th'  wall,  an'  words  'at  read, — 

"Whoever  kin  this  trumput  blow 

Shall  cause  the  Gi'nt's  overth'ow!" 

An*  Jack,  he  thist  reached  up  an'  blowed 

The  stuffin'  out  of  it !  an'  th'owed 

Th'  castul-gates  wide  open,  an' 

Nen  tuk  his  gold  sword  in  his  han', 

An'  thist  marched  in  t*  ole  "Bumblebore," 

An',  'fore  he  knowed,  he  put  'bout  four 

Heads  on  him — an'  chopped  'em  off,  too! — 

Wisht  'at  I'd  been  Jack! — don't  you? 


205 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


j/5        Farmer  Whipple. — Bachelor 

IT'S  a  mystery  to  see  me — a  man  o'  fifty-four, 
Who's  lived  a  cross  old  bachelor  fer  thirty  year'  and 

more — • 

A-lookin'  glad  and  smilin' !    And  they's  none  o'  you  can  sa« 
That  you  can  guess  the  reason  why  I.  feel  so  good  to-day ! 

I  must  tell  you  all  about  it !    But  I'll  have  to  deviate 
A  little  in  beginnin'  so's  to  set  the  matter  straight 
As  to  how  it  comes  to  happen  that  I  never  took  a  wife — 
Kind  o'  "crawfish"  from  the  Present  to  the  Spring-time  of 
my  life ! 

I  was  brought  up  in  the  country:    Of  a  family  of  five — 

Three  brothers  and  a  sister — I'm  the  only  one  alive, — 

Fer  they  all  died  little  babies;  and  'twas  one  o'  Mother's 

ways, 
You  know,  to  want  a  daughter ;  so  she  took  a  girl  to  raise. 

The  sweetest  little  thing  she  was,  with  rosy  cheeks,  and 

fat- 

We  was  little  chunks  o'  shavers  then  about  as  high  as  that ! 
But  some  way  we  sort  o'  suited-\ike !  and  Mother  she'd 

declare 
She  never  laid  her  eyes  on  a  more  lovin'  pair 

Than  we  was !    So  we  growed  up  side  by  side  fer  thirteen 

year', 
And  every  hour  of  it  she  growed  to  me  more  dear ! — 

206 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

W'y,  even  Father's  dyin',  as  he  did,  I  do  believe 

Warn't  more  affectin'  to  me  than  it  was  to  see  her  grieve! 

I  was  then  a  lad  o'  twenty;  and  I  felt  a  flash  o'  pride 
In  thinkin'  all  depended  on  me  now  to  pervide 
Per  Mother  and  f  er  Mary ;  and  I  went  about  the  place 
With  sleeves  rolled  up — and  workin',  with  a  mighty  smilin* 
face.— 

Fer  sompin'  else  was  workin'!  but  not  a  word  I  said 

Of  a  certain  sort  o'  notion  that  was  runnin'  through  my 

head,— 

"Some  day  I'd  maybe  marry,  and  a  brother's  love  was  one 
Thing — a  lover's  was  another!"  was  the  way  the  notion 

run! 

I  remember  onc't  in  harvest,  when  the  "cradle-in' "  was 
done — 

(When  the  harvest  of  my  summers  mounted  up  to  twenty- 
one), 

I  was  ridin'  home  with  Mary  at  the  closin*  o'  the  day — 

A-chawin'  straws  and  thinkin',  in  a  lover's  lazy  way! 

And  Mary's  cheeks  was  burnin'  like  the  sunset  down  the 

lane : 

I  noticed  she  was  thinkin',  too,  and  ast  her  to  explain. 
Well — when    she   turned    and    kissed   me,   with    her   arms 

around  me — law! 
I'd  a  bigger  load  o'  Heaven  than  I  had  a  load  o'  straw ! 

T  don't  p'tend  to  learnin',  but  I'll  tell  you  what's  a  fac', 
They's  a  mighty  truthful  sayin'  somers  in  a  almanac— 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Er  somers — 'bout  "puore  happiness" — perhaps  some  folks'll 

laugh 
At  the  idy — "only  lastin'  jest  two  seconds  and  a  half." — 

But  it's  jest  as  true  as  preachin' ! — fer  that  was  a  sister's 

kiss, 

And  a  sister's  lovin'  confidence  a-tellin'  to  me  this: — 
"She    was    happy,    be  in'   promised    to    the   son    o'   farmer 

Brown," — 
And  my  feelin's  struck  a  pardnership  with  sunset  and  went 

down ! 

I  don't  know  how  I  acted,  I  don't  know  what  I  said, — 
Fer  my  heart  seemed  jest  a-turnin'  to  an  ice-cold  lump  o' 

lead; 

And  the  hosses  kind  o'  glimmered  before  me  in  the  road, 
And  the  lines   fell  from  my  fingers — And  that  was  all   I 

knowed — • 
-•£jr"ov/>  ?.>,*  't??  ff'j-  ':;•  fi  ?•••': firm.'?,' vrr?  1<>  J-r.<rr.(.H 

Fer — well,  I  don't  know  how  long — They's  a  dim  remem- 

berence 

Of  a  sound  o'  snortin'  hosses,  and  a  stake-and-ridered  fence 
A-whizzin'  past,  and  wheat-sheaves  a-dancin'  in  the  air. 
And  Mary  screamin'  "Murder !"  and  a-runnin'  up  to  where 

7  was  layin'  by  the  roadside,  and  the  wagon  upside  down 
A-leanin'    on    the    gate-post,    with    the    wheels    a-whirlin' 

round ! 
And  I  tried  to  raise  and  meet  her,  but  I  couldn't,  with  a 

vague 
Sort  o*  notion  comin'  to  me  that  I  had  a  broken  leg. 


208 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Well,  the  women  missed  me  through  it;  but  many  a  time 

I'd  sigh 

As  I'd  keep  a-gittin'  better  instid  o'  goin'  to  die, 
And  wonder  what  was  left  me  worth  livin'  fer  below, 
When  the  girl  I  loved  was  married  to  another,  don't  you 

know ! 

And  my  thoughts  was  as  rebellious  as  the  folks  was  good 

and  kind 
When  Brown  and  Mary  married — Railly  must  'a'  been  my 

wind 

Was  kind  o'  out  o'  kilter ! — fer  I  hated  Brown,  you  see, 
Worse'n  pizen — and   the   feller   whittled   crutches   out   fer 

me — 

And  done  a  thousand  little  ac's  o'  kindness  and  respec' — 
And  me  a-wishin'  all  the  time  that  I  could  break  his  neck ! 
My  relief  was  like  a  mourner's  when  the  funeral  is  done 
When  they  moved  to  Illinois  in  the  Fall  o'  Forty-one. 

Then  I  went  to  work  in  airnest — I  had  nothin'  much  in 

view 

But  to  drownd  out  rickollections — and  it  kep'  me  busy,  too ! 
But  I   slowly  thrived  and  prospered,  tel  Mother  used  to 

say 
She  expected  yit  to  see  me  a  wealthy  man  some  day. 

Then  I'd  think  how  little  money  was,  compared  to  happi 
ness — 

And  who'd  be  left  to  use  it  when  I  died  I  couldn't  guess ! 
But  I've  still  kep'  speculatin'  and  a-gainin'  year  by  year, 
Tel  I'm  payin'  half  the  taxes  in  the  county,  mighty  near ! 


209 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Well ! — A  year  ago  er  better,  a  letter  comes  to  hand 
Astin'  how  I'd  like  to  dicker  fer  some  Illinois  land — 
"The  feller  that  had  owned  it,"  it  went  ahead  to  state, 
"Had    jest    deceased,    insolvent,    leavin'    chance    to    specu 
late,"— 

And  then  it  closed  by  sayin'  that  I'd  "better  come  and 

see." — 

I'd  never  been  West,  anyhow — a'most  too  wild  fer  me, 
I'd  allus  had  a  notion  ;  but  a  lawyer  here  in  town 
Said  I'd  find  myself  mistakend  when  I  come  to  look  around. 

So   I  bids-good-by  to   Mother,   and   I  jumps   aboard   the 

train, 
A-thinkin*  what  I'd  bring  her  when  I  come  back  home 

again — 

And  ef  she'd  had  an  idy  what  the  present  was  to  be, 
I  think  it's  more'n  likely  she'd  'a'  went  along  with  me ! 

Cars  is  awful  tejus  ridin',  fer  all  they  go  so  fast! 
But  finally  they  called  out  my  stoppin'-place  at  last : 
And  that  night,  at  the  tavern,  I  dreamp'  I  was  a  train 
O'  cars,  and  sheered  at  sornepin',  runnin'  down  a  country 
lane! 

Well,  in  the  mornin'  airly — after  huntin'  up  the  man — 
The  lawyer  who  was  wantin'  to  swap  the  piece  o'  land — • 
We  started  fer  the  country ;  and  I  ast  the  history 
Of  the  farm — its  former  owner — and  so  forth,  etcetery! 

And — well — it  was  inters/in' — I  su'prised  him,  I  suppose 
By  the  loud  and  frequent  manner  in  which  I  blowed  my 
nose ! — 

210 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

But  his  su'prise  was  greater,  and  it  made  him  wonder  more, 
When  I  kissed  and  hugged  the  widder  when  she  met  us  at 
the  door ! — 

It  was  Mary:     .    .     .    They's  a   feelin'  a-hidin'  down   in 

here — 

Of  course  I  can't  explain  it,  ner  ever  make  it  clear. — 
It  was  with  us  in  that  meetin',  I  don't  want  you  to  f  ergit ! 
And  it  makes  me  kind  o'  nervous  when  I  think  about  it  yit ! 

I  bought  that  farm,  and  deeded  it,  afore  I  left  the  town, 
With  "title  clear  to  mansions  in  the  skies,"  to  Mary  Brown ! 
And  fu'thermore,  I  took  her  and  the  childern — fer  you  see, 
They'd  never  seed  their  Grandma — and  I  fetched  'em  home 
with   me. 

So  now  you've  got  an  idy  why  a  man  o'  fifty-four, 
Who's  lived  a  cross  old  bachelor  fer  thirty  year'  and  more, 
Is  a-lookin'  glad   and   smilin' ! — And   I've   jest  come   into 

town 
To  git  a  pair  o'  license  fer  to  marry  Mary  Brown. 


116          Dawn,  Noon  and  Dewfall 


DAWN,  noon  and  dewfall !    Bluebird  and  robin 
Up  and  at  it  airly,  and  the  orchard-blossoms  bobbin' ! 
Peekin'  from  the  winder,  half  awake,  and  wishin' 
I  could  go  to  sleep  ag'in  as  well  as  go  a-fishin'! 

211 


THE   HOOSTER   BOOK 


On  the  apern  o*  the  dam,  legs  a-danglin'  over, 
Drowsy-like  with  sound  o'  worter  and  the  smell  o'  clover: 
Fish  all  out  a-visitin' — 'cept  some  dratted  minnor ! 
Yes,   and  mill  shet  down  at  last  and  hands   is  gone   to 
dinner. 

in 

Trompin'  home  acrost  the  fields :  Lightnin'-bugs  a-blinkin' 
In  the  wheat  like  sparks  o'  things  feller  keeps  a-thinkin' : — 
Mother  waitin'  supper,  and  the  childern  there  to  cherr  me ! 
And  fiddle  on  the  kitchen-wall  a-jes'  a-eechin'  fer  me! 


I 


1/7          As  My  Uncle  Used  to  Say 

:^[    'j/'l     fmA — I'jTilim;-    bm:    I;/:;    '::"'.:. 
'VE  thought  a  power  on  men  and  things — 
As  my  uncle  ust  to  say, — 
And  ef  folks  don't  work  as  they  pray,  i  jings! 

W'y»  they  ain't  no  use  to  pray! 
Ef  you  want  somepin',  and  jes'  dead-set 
A-pleadin'  fer  it  with  both  eyes  wet, 
And  tears  won't  bring  it,  w'y,  you  try  sweat 
As  my  uncle  ust  to  say. 

They's  some  don't  know  their  A,  B,  C's — 

As  my  uncle  ust  to  say — 
And  yit  don't  waste  no  candle-grease, 

Ner  whistle  their  lives  away! 
212 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

But  ef  they  can't  write  no  book,  ner  rhyme 
No  ringin'  song  fer  to  last  all  time, 
They  can  blaze  the  way  fer  "the  march  sublime/ 
As  my  uncle  ust  to  say. 

Whoever's  Foreman  of  all  things  here, 

As  my  uncle  ust  to  say, 
He  knows  each  job  'at  we're  best  fit  fer, 

And  our  round-up,  night  and  day : 
And  a-sizin'  His  work,  east  and  west, 
And  north  and  south,  and  worst  and  best, 
I  ain't  got  nothin'  to  suggest, 

As  my  uncle  ust  to  say. 


118  A  Full  Harvest 

SEEMS  like  a  feller'd  ort'o  jes'  to-day 
Git  down  and  roll  and  waller,  don't  you  know 

In  that-air  stubble,  and  flop  up  and  crow, 
Seein'  sich  crops  !    I'll  undertake  to  say 
There're  no  wheat's   ever  turned  out  thataway 

Afore  this  season ! — Folks  is  keerless,  though, 

And  too  fergitful — 'caze  we'd  ort'o  show 
More  thankfulness! — Jes'  looky  hyonder,  hey? — • 

And  watch  that  little  reaper  wadin'  thue 
That  last  old  yaller  hunk  o'  harvest-ground — 

Jes'  natchur'ly  a-slicin'  it  in  two 
Like  honeycomb,  and  gaumin'  it  around 

The  field — like  it  had  nothin'  else  to  do 

On'y  jes'  waste  it  all  on  me  and  you! 
213 


THE   HOOS1ER   BOOK 


up  Right  Here  at  Home 

RIGHT  here  at  home,  boys,  in  old  Hoosierdom, 
Where  strangers  allus  joke  us  when  they  come; 
And  brag  o'  their  old  States  and  interprize — 
Yit  settle  here;  and  'fore  they  realize, 
They're  "hoosier"  as  the  rest  of  us,  and  live 
Right  here  at  home,  boys,  with  their  past  f ergive' ! 

Right  here  at  home,  boys,  is  the  place,  I  guess, 
Fer  me  and  you  and  plain  old  happiness : 
We  hear  the  World's   lots   grander — likely  so, — 
We'll  take  the  World's  word  fer  it  and  not  go. — 
We  know  its  ways  ain't  our  ways — so  we'll  stay 
Right  here  at  home,  boys,  where  we  know  the  way 

Right  here  at  home,  boys,  where  a  well-to-do 
Man's  plenty  rich  enough — and  knows  it,  too, 
And's  got  a'  extry  dollar,  any  time, 
To  boost  a  feller  up  'at  wants  to  climb 
And's  got  the  git-up  in  him  to  go  in 
And  git  there,  like  he  purt'  nigh  allus  kin ! 

Right  here  at  home,  boys,  is  the  place  fer  us ! — 
Where  folks'  heart's  bigger'n  their  money-pu's'; 
And  where  a  common  feller's  jes'  as  good 
As  ary  other  in  the  neighberhood : 
The  World  at  large  don't  worry  you  and  me 
Right  here  at  home,  boys,  where  we  ort  to  be ! 
I  uov  l>fi£  am-:, no  He  J?  y;>ir.v  V 

214 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Right  here  at  home,  boys — jes'  right  where  we  air! — 
Birds  don't  sing  any  sweeter  anywhere : 
Grass  don't  grow  any  greener'n  she  grows 
Across  the  pastur'  where  the  old  path  goes, — 
All  things  in  ear-shot's  purty,  er  in  sight, 
Right  here  at  home,  boys,  ef  we  sice  'em  right. 

Right  here  at  home,  boys,  where  the  old  home-place 

Is  sacerd  to  us  as  our  mother's  face, 

Jes'  as  we  rickollect  her,  last  she  smiled 

And  kissed   us — dyin'   so   and   rickonciled, 

Seem'  us  all  at  home  here — none  astray — 

Right  here  at  home,  boys,  where  she  sleeps  to-day. 

f-^wpri3i  yo^  ^'^  ibrrJ  ?/o\  'nA 
.WOT  R  ni  Jffi  ilooJ  p.'irfJDiq  ibrIT 

120          Sister  Jones's  Confession 

I   THOUGHT  the  deacon  liked  me,  yit 
I   warn't  adzackly  shore  of   it — 
Per,  mind  ye,  time  and  time  ag'in, 
When  jiners  'ud  be  comin'  in, 
I'd  seed  him  shakin'  hands  as  free 
With  all  the  sistern  as  with  me! 
But  jurin'  last  Revival,  where 
He  called  on  me  to  lead  in  prayer, 
An'  kneeled  there  with  me,  side  by  side, 
A-whisper'n*  "he  felt  sanctified 
Jes'  tetchin'  of  my  gyarment's  hem," — 
That  settled  things  as  fur  as  them- 
Thare  other  wimmin  was  concerned! — 
And — well ! — I  know  I  must  'a'  turned 

215 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

A  dozen  colors!  —  Flurried?  —  la!  — 
No  mortal  sinner  never  saw 
A   gladder   widder   than   the   one 
A-kneelin'   there   and   wonderun' 
Who'd  pray!  —  So  glad,  upon  my  word, 
I  railly  couldn't  thank  the  Lord! 


Iry  and  Billy  and  Jo 

A   TINTYPE 

--'-VKttei.    'jnon—  -JTJ'I   rKrtori   iB   OK   ?n   'nh 

IRY  an'  Billy  an'  Jo!— 
Iry  an'  Billy's  the  boys, 
An'  Jo's  their  dog,  you  know,  — 
Their  pictur's  took  all  in  a  row. 
Bet  they  kin  kick  up  a  noise  — 
Iry  and  Billy,  the  boys, 
And  that-air  little  dog  Jo! 

Iry's  the  one  'at  stands 

Up  there  a-lookin'  so  mild 
An'  meek  —  with  his  hat  in  his  hands, 

Like  such  a  'bediant  child  — 
(Sakcs-alive!)—An'  Billy  he  sets 
In  the  cheer  an'  holds  on  to  Jo  an'  sweats 
Hisse'f,   a-lookin'   so  good!   Ho-ho  ! 

Iry  an'  Billy  an'  Jo  ! 

Yit  the  way  them  boys,  you  know, 

Usen  to  jes'  turn  in 
An'  fight  over  that  dog  Jo 

Wuz  a  burnin'-shame-an'-a-sin  !  — 

216 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Iry  he'd  argy  'at,  by  gee-whizz ! 
That-air  little  Jo-dog  wuz  his! — 
An*  Billy  he'd  claim  it  wuzn't  so — 
'Cause  the  dog  wuz  hisn! — An'  at  it  they'd  go, 
Nip-an'-tugg,  tooth-an'-toe-nail,  you  know- 
Try  an'  Billy  an'  Jo ! 

But  their  Pa— (He  wuz  the  marshal  then)  — 

He  'tended-like  'at  he  jerked  'em  up; 
An'  got  a  jury  o'  Brick-yard  men 
An'  helt  a  trial  about  the  pup : 
An'  he  says  he  jes'  like  to  'a'  died 
When  the  rest  o'  us  town-boys  testified — 
Regardin',  you  know, 
Iry  an    Billy  an*  Jo. — 

'Cause  we  all  knowed,  when  the  Gipsies  they 

Camped  down  here  by  the  crick  last  Fall, 
They  brung  Jo  with  'em,  an'  give  him  away 

To  Iry  an'  Billy  f er  nothin'  at  all  !— 
So  the  jury  fetched  in  the  verdick  so 

Jo  he  ain't  neether  o'  theirn  fer  shore— 

He's  both  their  dog,  an'  jes'  no  more! 

An'   so 

They've  quit  quarrelin'  long  ago, 

Iry  an'  Billy  an'  Jo. 


217 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


122  Them  Flowers 

TAKE  a  feller  'at's  sick  and  laid  up  on  the  shelf, 
All  shaky,  and  ga'nted,  and  pore— 
Jes'  all  so  knocked  out  he  can't  handle  hisself 

With  a  stiff  upper-lip  any  more; 
Shet  him  up  all  alone  in  the  gloom  of  a  room 

As  dark  as  the  tomb,  and  as  grim, 
And  then  take  and  send  him  some  roses  in  bloom, 
And  you  can  have  fun  out  o'  him ! 

You've  ketched  him  'fore  now — when  his  liver 
was  sound 

And  his  appetite  notched  like  a  saw — 
A-mockin'  you,  maybe,  fer  romancin'  round 

With  a  big  posy-bunch  in  yer  paw; 
But  you  ketch  him,  say,  when  his  health  is  away, 

And  he's  flat  on  his  back  in  distress, 
And  then  you  kin  trot  out  yer  little  bokay 

And  not  be  insulted,  I  guess ! 

You  see,  it's  like  this,  what  his  weakness  is, — 

Them  flowers  makes  him  think  of  the  days 
Of  his  innocent  youth,  and  that  mother  o'  his,' 

And  the  roses  that  she  us't  to  raise : — 
So  here,  all  alone  with  the  roses  you  send — 

Bein'  sick  and  all  trimbly  and  faint, — 
My  eyes  is — my  eyes  is — my  eyes  is — old  friend — 

Is  a-leakin' — I'm  blamed  ef  they  ain't ! 


218 


THE   HOOSIER    BOOK 


By  Any  Other  Name 

FIRST  the  teacher  called  the  roll, 
Clos't  to  the  beginning 
"Addeliney  Bowersox !" 

Set   the    school   a-grinnin'. 
Winter-time,  and  stingin'  cold 

When  the  session  took  up — 
Cold  as  we  all  looked  at  her, 
Though  she  couldn't  look  up ! 

Total  stranger  to  us,  too — 

Country  folks  ain't  allus 
Nigh  so  shameful  unpolite 

As  some  people  call  us! — 
But  the  honest  facts  is,  then, 

Addeliney  Bower- 
Sox's  feelin's  was  so  hurt 

She  cried  half  an  hour! 

My  dest  was  acrost  from  hern : 

Set  and  watched  her  tryin' 
To  p'tend  she  didn't  keer, 

And  a  kind  o'  dryin' 
Up  her  tears  with  smiles — tel  I 

Thought,  "Well,  'Addeliney 
Bowersox'  is  plain,  but  she's 

Purty  as  a  piney!" 


It's  be'n  many  of  a  year 
Sence  that  most  oncommon 

Cur'ous  name  o'  Bowersox 
Struck  me  so  abomin- 
219 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Nubble  and  outlandish-like ! — 
I  changed  it  to  Adde- 

Liney  Daubenspeck — and  that 
Nearly  killed  her  Daddy! 


124.  The  Hoodoo 

OWNED  a  pair  o'  skates  onc't.— Traded 
Fer  'em, — stropped  'em  on  and  waded 
Up  and  down  the  crick,  a-waitin' 
Tel  she'd  freeze  up  fit  fer  skatin'. 
Mildest  winter  I  remember — 

More  like  Spring-  than  Winter-weather! — 
Didn't  frost  tel  'bout  December — 

Git  up  airly  ketch  a  feather 
Of  it,  mayby,  'crost  the  winder — 
Sunshine  swinge  it  like  a  cinder! 

Well— I  waited— and  kep'  waitin' ! 

Couldn't  see  my  money's  wo'th   in 
Them-air  skates,  and  was  no  skatin' 

Ner  no  hint  o'  ice  ner  nothin' ! 
So,  one  day — along  in  airly 
Spring — I   swopped   'em   off — and   barely 
Closed  the  dicker,  'fore  the  weather 

Natchurly  jes'  slipped  the  ratchet, 
And  crick — tail-race — all  together, 

Froze  so  tight  cat  couldn't  scratch  it ! 


220 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


125        What  Chris  mas  Fetched  the 
Wigginses 

WINTER-TIME,  er  Summer-time, 
Of  late  years  I  notice  I'm 
Kind  o'  like,  more  subjec'  to 
What  the  weather  is.    Now,  you 
Folks  'at  lives  in  town,  I  s'pose, 
Thinks  it's  bully  when  it  snows; 
But  the  chap  'at  chops  and  hauls 
Yer  wood  fer  ye,  and  then  stalls, 
And  snapps  tuggs  and  swingletrees, 
And  then  has  to  walk  er  freeze, 
Hain't  so  much  "stuck  on"  the  snow 
As  stuck  in  it — Bless  ye,  no ! — 
When  it's  packed,  and  sleighin'  's  good, 
And  church  in  the  neighberhood, 
Them  'at's  got  their  girls,  I  guess, 
Takes  'em,  likely,  more  er  less. 
Tell  the  plain  facts  o'  the  case, 
No  men-folks  about  our  place 
On'y  me  and  Pap — and  he 
'Lows  'at  young  folks'  company 
Allus  made  him  sick!     So  I 
Jes'  don't  want,  and  jes'  don't  try! 
Chinkypin,  the  dad-burn  town, 
'S  too  fur  off  to  loaf  aroun' 
Eether  day  er  night — and  no 
Law  compellin'  me  to  go! — 
'Less'n   some  Old-Settlers'  Day, 
Er  big-doin's  thataway — 


221 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Then,  to  tell  the  p'inted  fac', 
I've  went  more  so's  to  come  back 
By  old  Guthrie's  still-house,  where 
Minors  has  got  licker  there — 
That's  pervidin'  we  could  show  'em 
Old  folks  sent  fer  it  from  home! 
Visit  roun'  the  neighbers  some, 
When  the  boys  wants  me  to  come. — 
Coon-hunt  with  'em ;  er  set  traps 
Fer  mussrats;  er  jes'  perhaps, 
Lay  in  roun'  the  stove,  you  know, 
And  parch  corn,  and  let  her  snow  1 
Mostly,  nights  like  these,  you'll  be 
(Ef  you'  got  a  writ  fer  me) 
Ap'  to  skeer  me  up,  I  guess, 
In  about  the  Wigginses'. 
Nothin'  roun'  our  place  to  keep 
Me  at  home — with  Pap  asleep 
'Fore  it's  dark ;  and  Mother  in 
Mango  pickles  to  her  chin; 
And  the  girls,  all  still  as  death, 
Piecin'  quilts. — Sence  I  drawed  breath 
Twenty  year'  ago,  and  heerd 
Some  girls  whisper'n'  so's  it  'peared 
Like  they  had  a  row  o'  pins 
In  their  mouth— right  there  begins 
My  first  rickollections,  built 
On  that-air  blame'  old  piece-quilt ! 

Summer-time,  it's  jes'  the  same — 
'Cause  I've  noticed, — and  I  claim, 


222 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

As  I  said  afore,  I'm  more 
Subjec'  to  the  weather,  shore, 
'Preaching  my  majority, 
Than  I  ever  ust  to  be! 
Callin'  back  last  Summer,  say, — 
Don't  seem  hardly  past  away — 
With  night  closin'  in,  and  all 
S'  lonesome-like  in  the  dewfall : 
Bats — ad-drat  their  ugly  muggs  ! — 
Flicker'n'  by ;  and  lightnin'-bugs 
Huckster'n'  roun'  the  airly  night 
Little  sickly  gasps  o'  light; — 
Whippoorvvills,  like  all  possess'd, 
Moanin'  out  their  mournfullest; — 
Frogs  and  katydids  and  things    o>IU'' 
Jes*  clubs  in  and  sings  and  sings 
Their  ding-dangdest! — Stock's  all  fed, 
And  Pap's  washed  his  feet  fer  bed; — 
Mother  and  the  girls  all  down 
At  the  milk-shed,  foolin'  roun' — 
No  wunder  'at  I  git  blue, 
And  lite  out — and  so  would  you ! 
I  cain't  stay  aroun'  no  place 
Whur  they  hain't  no  livin'  face : — 
'Crost  the  fields  and  thue  the  gaps 
Of  the  hills  they's  friends,  perhaps, 
Waitin'  somers,  'at  kin  be 
Kind  o'  comfertin'  to  me! 

Neighbers  all  is  plenty  good, 
Scattered  thue  this  neighberhood ; 

.  ;-':»i  [IsJJiTi?  //    ".-*    f-3.    I   *<;!'// 

223 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Yit,  of  all,  I  like  to  jes' 
Drap  in  on  the  Wigginses. — 
Old  man,  and  old  lady  too, 
Tear-like,  makes  so  much  o'  you— 
Least,  they've  allus  pampered  me 
Like  one  of  the  fambily.— 
The  boys,  too,  's  all  thataway— 
Want  you  jes'  to  come  and  stay  ;— 
Price,  and  Chape,  and  Mandaville, 
Poke,  Chasteen,  and  "Catfish  Bill"— 
Poke's  the  runt  of  all  the  rest, 
But  he's  jes'  the  beatin'est 
Little  schemer,  fer  fourteen, 
Anybody  ever  seen  ! — 
"Like  his  namesake,"  old  man  claims, 
"Jeems  K.  Poke,  the  first  o'  names ! 
Full  o'  tricks  and  jokes — and  you 
Never  know  what  Poke's  go'  do !" 
Genius,  too,  that-air  boy  is, 
With  them  awk'ard  hands  o'  his : 
Gits  this  blame  pokeberry-juice, 
Er  some  stuff,  fer  ink — and  goose- 
Quill  pen-p'ints:    And  then  he'll  draw 
Dogdest  pictures  yevver  saw ! — 
Jes'  make  deers  and  eagles  good 
As  a  writin'  teacher  could  ! 
Then  they's  two  twin  boys  they've  riz 
Of  old  Coonrod  Wigginses 
'At's  deceast—and  glad  of  it, 
'Cause  his  widder's  livin'  yit! 
Course  the  boys  is  mostly  jes' 
Why  I  go  to  Wigginses'. — 

224 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Though  Mclvincy,  sometimes,  she 

Gits  her  slate  and  algebry 

And  jes'  sets  there  cipher'n'  thue 

Sums  old  Ray  hisse'f  cain't  do ! — 

Jes'  sets  there,  and  tilts  her  chair 

Forreds  tel,  'pear-like,  her  hair 

Jes'  spills  in  her  lap — and  then 

She  jes'  dips  it  up  again 

With  her  hands,  as  white,  I  swan, 

As  the  apern  she's  got  on! 

Talk  o'  hospitality ! — 

Go  to  Wigginses'  with  me — 

Overhet,  or  froze  plum  thue, 

You'll  find  welcome  waitin'  you : — • 

Th'ow  out  yer  tobacker  'fore 

You  set  foot  acrost  that  floor, — 

"Got  to  eat  whatever's  set — 

Got  to  drink  whatever's  wet !" 

Old  man's  sentimuns — them's  his — 

And  means  jes'  the  best  they  is! 

Then  he  lights  his  pipe ;  and  she, 

The  old  lady,  presen'ly 

She  lights  hern ;  and  Chape  and  Poke.- 

I  hain't  got  none,  ner  don't  smoke, — 

(In  the  crick  afore  their  door — 

Sort  o'  so's  'at  I'd  be  shore — 

Drownded  mine  one  night  and  says 

"I  won't  smoke  at  Wigginses'!") 

Price  he's  mostly  talkin'  'bout 

Politics,  and  "thieves  turned  out"—- 

225 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

What  he's  go'  to  be,  ef  he 

Ever  "gits  there" — and  "we'll   see!" — 

Poke  he  'lows  they's  blame'  few  men 

Go'  to  hold  their  breath  tel  then ! 

Then  Melviney  smiles,  as  she 

Goes  on  with  her  algebry, 

And  the  clouds  clear,  and  the  room's 

Sweeter'n  crabapple-blooms ! 

(That  Melviney,  she's  got  some 

Most  surprisin'  ways,  i  gum ! — 

Don't  'pear-like  she  ever  says 

Nothin',  yit  you'll  listen  jes' 

Like  she  was  a-talkin',  and 

Half-way  seem  to  understand, 

But  not  quite, — Poke  does,  I  know, 

'Cause  he  good  as  told  me  so, — 

Poke's  her  f avo-rite ;  and  he — 

That  is,  confidentially — 

He's  my  favo-rite — and  I 

Got  my  whurfore  and  my  why!) 

lg'r'-{9ffo  i?3(?  yrtt  YJ[  intern  ImA 
I  hain't  never  be'n  no  hand 
Much  at  talkin',  understand, 
But  they's  thoughts  o'  mine  'at's  jes' 
Jealous  o'  them  Wigginses ! — 
Gift  o'  talkin'  's  what  they'  got, 
Whuther  they  want  to  er  not. — 
F'r  instunce,  start  the  old  man  on 
Huritin'-scrapes,  'fore  game  was  gone, 
'Way  back  in  the  Forties,  when 
Bears  stold  pigs  right  out  the  pen, 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Er  went  waltzin'  'crost  the  farm 

With  a  beehive  on  their  arm ! — 

And— sir,  ping!  the  old  man's  gun 

Has  plumped  over  many  a  one, 

Firin'  at  him  from  afore 

That-air  very  cabin-door! 

Yes — and  painters,  prowlin'  'bout, 

Allus  darkest  nights. — Lay  out 

Clost  yer  cattle. — Great,  big  red 

Eyes  a-blazin'  in  their  head, 

Glitter'n'  'long  the  .timber-line — 

Shine  out  some,  and  then  un-skinc, 

And  shine  back.— Then,  stiddy  !  whizz  I 

'N'  there  yer  Mr.  Painter  is 

With  a  hole  bored  spang  between 

Them-air  eyes!    .    .    .    Er  start  Chasteen, 

Say,  on  blooded  racin'-stock, 

Ef  you  want  to  hear  him  talk; 

Er  tobacker — how  to  raise, 

Store,  and  k-yore  it,  so's  she  pays.    .    .    . 

The  old  lady— and  she'll  cote 

Scriptur*  tel  she'll  git  yer  vote ! 

Prove  to  you  'at  wrong  is  right, 

Jes'  as  plain  as  black  is  white : 

Prove  when  you're  asleep  in  bed 

You're  a-standin'  on  yer  head, 

And  yer  train  'at's  going  West, 

'S  goin'  East  its  level  best; 

And  when  bees  dies,  it's  their  wings 

Wears  out — And  a  thousand  things! 

And  the  boys  is  "chips,"  you  know, 

"Off  the  old  block"— So  I  go 


227 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

To  the  Wigginses',  'cause — jes' 
'Cause  I  like  the  Wigginses — 
Even  ef  Melviney  she 
Hardly  'pears  to  notice  me ! 

,   .      5-io'ifc  mgiil   fniii  js  'nhrf 
Rid  to  Chinkypin  this  week — 
Yisterd'y. — No  snow  to  speak 
Of,  and  didn't  have  no  sleigh 
Anyhow ;  so,  as  I  say, 
I  rid  in — and  froze  one  ear 
And  both  heels — aud  I  don't  keer  ! — • 
"Mother  and  the  girls  kin  jes' 
Bother  'bout  their  Chris'mases 
Next  time  fer  their sc'vs,  i  jack!" 
Thinks-says-I,  a-startin'  back, — 
Whole  durn  meal-bag  full  of  things 
Wropped  in  paper-sacks,  and  strings 
Liable  to  snap  their  holt 
Jes'  at  any  little  jolt! 
That  in  front  o'  me,  and  wind 
With  nicks  in  it,  'at  jes'  skinned 
Me  alive ! — I'm  here  to  say 
Nine  mile'  hossback  thataway 
Would  'a'  walked  my  log !    But,  as 
Somepin'  allus  comes  to  pass, 
As  I  topped  old  Guthrie's  hill, 
Saw  a  buggy,  front  the  Still, 
P'inted  home'ards,  and  a  thin 
Little  chap  jes'  climbin'  in. 
Six  more  minutes  I  were  there 
On  the  groun's ! — And  course  it  were- 
03  I  o£ — "afooM  Mo  arlj  tlO" 

228 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

It  were  little  Poke — and  he 
Nearly  fainted  to  see  me! — 
"You  be'n  in  to  Chinky,  too  ?" 
"Yes;  and  go'  ride  back  with  you," 
I-says-I.    He  he'pped  me  find 
Room  fer  my  things  in  behind — 
Stript  my  boss's  reins  down,  and 
Putt  his  mitt'  on  the  right  hand 
So's  to  lead — "Pile  in !"  says  he, 
"But  you've  struck  pore  company!" 
Noticed  he  was  pale — looked  sick, 
Kind  o'  like,  and  had  a  quick 
Way  o'  flickin'  them-air  eyes 
O'  his  roun'  'at  didn't  size 
Up  right  with  his  usual  style — 
S'  I,  "You  well?"    He  tried  to  smile, 
But  his  chin  shuck  and  tears  come. — 
"I've  run  'Viney  'way  from  home  I" 

Don't  know  jes'  what  all  occurred 
Next  ten  seconds — Nary  word, 
But  my  heart  jes'  drapt,  stobbed  thue, 
And  whirlt  over  and  come  to. — 
Wrenched  a  big  quart-bottle  from 
That  fool-boy! — and  cut  my  thumb 
On  his  little  fiste-teeth— helt 
Him  snug  in  one  arm,  and  felt 
That-air  little  heart  o'  his 
Churn  the  blood  o'  Wigginses 
Into  that  old  bead  'at  spun 
Roun'  her,  spilt  at  Lexington ! 


229 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

His  k'niptions,  like  enough, 
He'pped  us  both, — though  it  was  rough — 
Rough  on  him,  and  rougher  on 
Me  when  last  his  nerve  was  gone, 
And  he  laid  there  still,  his  face 
Fishin'  fer  some  hidin'-place 
Jes'  a  leetle  lower  down 
In  my  breast  than  he'd  yit  f  oun' ! 
Last  I  kind  o'  soothed  him,  so's 
He  could  talk. — And  what  you  s'pose 
Them-air  revelations  of 

Poke's  was?     .     .     .     He'd  be'n  writin'  love- 
Letters  to  Melviney,  and 
Givin'  her  to  understand 
They  was  from  "a  young  man  who 
Loved  her,"  and — "the  violet's  blue 
'N'  sugar's  sweet" — and  Lord  knows  what ! 
Tel,  'peared-like,  Melviney  got 
S'  intended  in  "the  young 
Man,"  Poke  he  says,  'at  she  brung 
A'  answer  onc't  fer  him  to  take, 
Statin'  "she'd  die  fer  his  sake," 
And  writ  fifty  x's  "fer 
Love-kisses  fer  him  from  her !"    .    .    . 
I  was  standin'  in  the  road 
By  the  buggy,  all  I  knowed 
When  Poke  got  that  fur.— "That's  why," 
Poke  says,  "I  'fessed  up  the  lie — 
Had  to — 'cause  I  see,"  says  he, 
"  'Viney  was  in  airnest — she 
Cried,  too,  when  I  told  her.— Then 
She  swore  me,  and  smiled  again, 


230 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  got  Pap  and  Mother  to 

Let  me  hitch  and  drive  her  thue 

Into  Chinkypin,  to  be 

At  Aunt  'Rindy's   Chris'mas-tree — 

That's  to-night."     Says  I,  "Poke — durn 

Your  lyin'  soul! — 's  that  beau  o'  hern— 

That — she — loves — Does  he  live  in 

That  hellhole  o'  Chinkypin?" 

"No,"  says  Poke,  "er  'Viney  would 

Went  some  other  neighberhood." 

"Who  is  the  blame'  whelp  ?"  says  I. 

"Promised  'Viney,  hope  I'd  die 

Ef  I  ever  told !"  says  Poke, 

Pittiful  and  jes'  heart-broke' — 

"  'Sides  that's  why  she  left  the  place, — 

'She  cain't  look  him  in  the  face 

Now  no  more  on  earth !'  she  says." — 

And  the  child  broke  down  and  jes' 

Sobbed !     .     .    .     Says  I,  "Poke,  I  p'tend 

T'  be  your  friend,  and  your  Pap's  friend, 

And  your  Mother's  friend,  and  all 

The  boys1  friend,  little,  large  and  small — 

The  zvhole  fambily's  friend — and  you 

Know  that  means  Melviney,  too. — 

Now — you  hursh  yer  troublin' ! — I'm 

Go'  to  he'p  friends  ever'  time — • 

On'y  in  this  case,  you  got 

To  he'p  me — and,  like  as  not, 

I  kin  he'p  Melviney  then, 

And  we'll  have  her  home  again. 

And  now,  Poke,  with  your  consent, 

I'm  go'  go  to  that-air  gent 

231 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

She's  in  love  with,  and  confer 
With  him  on  his  views  o'  her. — 
Blast  him!  give  the  man  some  show. 
Who  is  he? — I'm  go'  to  know!" 
Somepin'  struck  the  little  chap 
Funny,  'peared-like. — Give  a  slap 
On  his  leg — laughed  thue  the  dew 
In  his  eyes,  and  says:    "It's  you!" 

Yes,  and — 'cordin'  to  the  last 
Love-letters  of  ours  'at  passed 
Thue  his  hands — we  was  to  be 
Married  Chris'mas. — "Gee-mun-nee  / 
Poke,"  says  I,  ''it's  suddent—yit 
We  kin  make  it!    You're  to  git 
Up  to-morry,  say,  'bout  three — 
Tell  your  folks  you're  go'  with  me: 
We'll  hitch  up,  and  jes'  drive  in 
'N'  take  the  town  o'  Chinkypin !" 

ffr>  lirtte  ,f>rr>hl  iV»tU«\P.  nmou -hrrA 

126  Old  Winters  on  the  Farm 


I   HAVE  jest  about  decided 
It  'ud  keep  a  town-boy  hoppin' 
Per  to  work  all  winter,  choppin' 
Per  a'  old  fireplace,  like  7  did ! 
Lawz!  them  old  times  wuz  contrairy! — 
Blame'  backbone  o'  winter,  'peared-like 
Wouldn't  break ! — and  I  wuz  skeerd-like 
Clean  on  into  Feb'uary! 
232 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Nothin'  ever  made  me  madder 
Than  fer  Pap  to  stomp  in,  layin' 
On  a'  extra  fore-stick,  sayin' 

"Groun'-hog's  out  and  seed  his  shadder !" 


127  The  Twins 

YVvV)-«'A  \iuii  «<y\)\K  irA-ul 

ONE'S  the  pictur'  of  his  Pa, 
And  the  other  of  her  Ma — 
Jes'  the  bossest  pair  o'  babies  'at  a  mortal 

ever  saw ! 

And  we  love  'em  as  the  bees 
Loves  the  blossoms  on  the  trees, 
A-ridin'  and  a-rompin'  in  the  breeze ! 

One's  got  her  Mammy's  eyes — 

Soft  and  blue  as  Apurl-skies — 

With  the  same  sort  of  a  smile f  like — Yes,  and 

mouth  about  her  size, — 
Dimples,  too,  in  cheek  and  chin, 
'At  my  lips  jes'  wallers  in, 
A-goin'  to  work,  er  gittin'  home  ag'in. 

qj;  r<:=ffoo*ttPFr}^or{}!  $:w'\  hnA 
And  the  other — Well,  they  say 

That  he's  got  his  Daddy's  way 

O'  bein'  ruther  soberfied,  er  ruther  extry  gay,- 

That  he  either  cries  his  best, 

Er  he  laughs  his  howlin'est— 

Like  all  he  lacked  was  buttons  and  a  vest! 

233 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Look  at  her! — and  look  at  him! — 

Talk  about  yer  "Cheru-frtwt/" 

Roll  'em  up  in  dreams  together,  rosy  arm  and 

chubby  limb! 

O  we  love  'em  as  the  bees 
Loves  the  blossoms  on  the  trees, 
A-ridin'  and  a-rompin'  in  the  breeze! 


128  John  Alden  and  Pcrdlly 

WE  got  up  a  Christmas-doin's 
Las'  Christmas  Eve- 
Kind  o'  dimonstration 
'At  I  railly  believe 
Give  more  satisfaction — 
Take  it  up  and  down — 
Than  ary  intertainment 
Ever  come  to  town! 

Railly  was  a  theater — 

That's  what  it  was, — 
But,  bein'  in  the  church,  you  know, 

We  had  a  "Santy  Claus"- 
So's  to  git  the  old  folks 

To  patternize,  you  see, 
And  back  the  institootion  up 

Kind  o'  morally. 

School-teacher  writ  the  thing— 
(Was  a  friend  o'  mine) 

Got  it  out  o'  Longfeller's 
Pome  "Evangeline"— 

234 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Er  somers — 'bout  the  Purituns. — 

Anyway,  the  part 
"John  Alden"  fell  to  me — 

And  learnt  it  all  by  heart ! 

Claircy  was  "Percilly" — 

(School-teacher  'lowed 
Me  and  her  could  act  them  two 

Best  of  all  the  crowd)  — 
Then — blame'  ef  he  didn't 

Git  her  Pap,  i  jing! — 
To  take  the  part  o'  "Santy  Claus" 

To  wind  up  the  thing. 

Law  !  the  fun  o'  practisun  ! — 

Was  a  week  er  two 
Me  and  Claircy  didn't  have 

Nothin'  else  to  do ! — 
Kep'  us  jes'  a-meetin'  round, 

Kind  o'  here  and  there, 
Ever'  night  rehearsin'-like, 

And  gaddin'  ever' where! 

Game  was  wo'th  the  candle,  though  !- 

Christmas  Eve  at  last 
Rolled  around. — And  'tendance  jes' 

Couldn't  been    su'passed! — 
Neighbers  from  the  country 

Come  from  Clay  and  Rush — 
Yes,  and  'crost  the  county-line 

Clean  from  Puckerbrush! 

235 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Meetm'-house  jes'  trimbled 

As  "Old  Santy"  went 
Round  amongst  the  chiklern, 

With  their  pepperment 
And  sassafrac  and  wintergreen 

Candy,  and  "a  ball 
O'  popcorn,"  the  preacher  'nounced, 

"Free  f  er  each  and  all  !" 

School-teacher  suddently 

Whispered  in  my  ear,— 
"Guess   I  got  you:  —  Christmas-gift!  — 

Christmas  is  here!" 
I  give  him  a  gold  pen, 

And  case  to  hold  the  thing.  — 
And  Claircy  whispered  "Christmas-gift!' 

And  I  give  her  a  ring. 

;  _  :T/-:f)    o+    fvto.  V'flJO/^ 

"And  now,"  says  I,  "jes'  watch  me— 

"Christmas-gift,"  says  I, 
"I'm  a-goin'  to  git  one  — 

'Santy's'  comin'  by!"  — 
Then  I  rech  and  grabbed  him  : 

And,  as  you'll  infer, 
'Course  I  got  the  old  man's, 

And  he  gimme  her! 


236 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


Some  Scattering  Remarks  of 
Bub's 

WUNST  I  tooked  our  pepper-box  lid 
An'  cut  little  pie-dough  biscuits,  I  did, 
An'  cooked  'em  on  our  stove  one  day 
When  our  hired  girl  she  said  I  may. 

Honey's  the  goodest  thing — Oo-ooh! 
And  blackburry-pies  is  goodest,  too ! 
But  wite  hot  biscuits,  ist  soakin'-wet 
Wiv  tree-mulassus,  is  goodest  yet! 


Miss  Maimie  she's  my  Ma's  friend,— an* 
She's  purtiest  girl  in  all  the  Ian' ! — 
An'  sweetest  smile  an'  voice  an'  face — • 
An*  eyes  ist  looks  like  p'serves  tas'e'I 


I  ruther  go  to  the  Circus-show; 
But,  'cause  my  parunts  told  me  so, 
I  ruther  go  to  the  Sund'y-school, 
'Cause  there  I  learn  the  goldun  rule. 

Say,  Pa, — what  is  the  goldun  rule 
'At's  allus  at  the  Sund'y-school? 


237 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


jjo       The  Rivals;  or  the  Showman's 
Ruse 

A  Tragi-Comedy,  in  One  Act 

PERSONS  REPRESENTED 

BILLY  MILLER  )  HM.    r»«--  i 

The  Rivals 
JOHNNY  WILLIAMS         ) 

TOMMY  WELLS  Conspirator 

TIME — Noon.  SCENE — Country  Town — Rear  view  of  the 
Miller  Mansion,  showing  Barn,  with  practical  loft- 
window  opening  on  alley-way,  with  colored-crayon 
poster  beneath,  announcing: — "BILLY  MILLER'S  Big 
Show  and  Monstur  Circus  and  Equareum !  A  shour- 
bath  fer  Each  and  All  fer  20  pins.  This  Afternoon! 
Don't  fer  git  the  Date!"  Enter  TOMMY  WELLS  and 
JOHNNY  WILLIAMS,  who  gaze  a  while  at  poster,  TOMMY 
secretly  smiling  and  winking  at  BILLY  MILLER,  con 
cealed  at  loft-window  above. 

or  Q-g  v.m\vn  I 

TOMMY  [to  JOHNNY] — 

Guess  'at  Billy  hain't  got  back,— 
Can't  see  nothin'  through  the  crack — 
Can't  hear  nothin'  needier — No  ! 
.     .     .     Thinks  he's  got  the  dandy  show, 
Don't  he? 

JOHNNY  [scornfully]  — 

'Course!  but  what  /  care? — 
He  hain't  got  no  show  in  there ! — 
What's  he  got  in  there  but  that 
Old  hen,  cooped  up  with  a  cat 
238 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  a  turkle,  an'  that  thing 
'At  he  calls  his  "circus-ring"? 
"What  a  circus-ring!"    I'd  quit! 
Bet  mine's  twic't  as  big  as  it! 

— YVIVIHoT. 

TOMMY — 

Yes,  but  you  got  no  machine 

Wat  you  bathe  with,  painted  green,. 

With  a  string  to  work  it,  guess ! 

m'1  l£f  zlfUfb-sd  9m  no  nv/oCl 
JOHNNY  [contemptuously] — 

Folks  don't  bathe  in  circuses! — • 

Ladies  comes  to  mine,  you  bet ! 

1'  got  seats  where  girls  can  set; 

An'  a  dressin'-room,  an'  all, 

Fixed  up  in  my  pony's  stall — 

Yes,  an'  I'  got  carpet,  too, 

Fer  the  tumblers,  and  a  blue 

Center-pole ! 

tewi  sin  fcMla'jVJoi,  wl  *o  VA 
TOMMY — 

Well,  Billy,  he's 
Got  a  tight-rope  an'  trapeze, 
An'  a  hoop  'at  he  jumps  through 

TJ        A    C.       4.\ 

Head-first! 

JOHNNY — 

Well,  what's  that  to  do— 
Lightin'  on  a  pile  o'  hay? 

Hain't  no  actin'  thataway ! 
iVi  •,  M'«  n  '\T''^  v.Tii3  ytVH] 

TOMMY — 

Don't  care  what  you  say,  he  draws 
Bigger  crowds  than  you  do,  'cause 

239 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Sence  he  started  up,  I  know 
All  the  fellers  says  his  show 
Is  the  best-un ! 

JOHNNY — 

Yes,  an'  he 

Better  not  tell  things  on  me! 
His  old  circus  hain't  no  good  ! — • 
'Cause  he's  got  the  neighborhood 
Down  on  me  he  thinks  'at  I'm 
Coin*  to  stand  it  all  the  time ; 
Thinks  ist  'cause  my  Pa  don't  'low 
Me  to  fight,  he's  got  me  now, 
An*  can  say  I  lie,  an'  call 
Me  ist  anything  at  all ! 
Billy  Miller  thinks  I  am 
'Feard  to  say  'at  he  says  "dam" — 
Yes,  and  worser  ones !  and  I'm 
Coin'  to  tell  his  folks  sometime! — 

An*  ef  he  don't  shet  his  head 

--YMI/.O  L 
I'll  tell  worse  'an  that  he  said 

When  he  fighted  Willie  King— 
An'  got  licked  like  ever'thing ! — 
Billy  Miller  better  shin 
Down  his  Daddy's  lane  ag'in, 
Like  a  cowardy-calf,  an'  climb 
In  fer  home  another  time! 
Better*— 

[Here  BILLY  leaps  down  from  the  loft  upon  his  unsus 
pecting  victim;  and  two  minutes  later,  JOHNNY,  with  the 
half  of  a  straw  hat,  a  bleeding  nose,  and  a  straight  rent 
across  one  trousers-knee,  makes  his  inglorious — exit.] 
240 


ARMAZINDY 


Armazindy 

A  RMAZINDY;—  fambily  name 
£\     Ballenger,  —  you'll  find  the  same, 
As  her  daddy  answered  it, 
In  the  old  War-rickords  yit,  — 
And,  like  him,  she's  airnt  the  good 
Will  o'  all  the  neighberhood.  — 
Name  ain't  down  in  History,  — 
But,  i  jucks!  it  ort  to  be! 

Folks  is  got  respec'  fer  her  — 
Armazindy  Ballenger!  — 
'Specially  the  ones  'at  knows 
Fac's  o'  how  her  story  goes 
From  the  start:  —  Her  father  blowed 
Up  —  eternally  furloughed  — 
When  the  old  "Sultana"  bu'st, 
And  sich  men  wuz  needed  wusst.  — 
Armazindy,  'bout  fourteen- 
Year-old  then  —  and  thin  and  lean 
As  a  killdee,  —  but  my  la!  — 
Blamedest  nerve  you  ever  saw  ! 
The  girl's  mother'd  allus  be'n 
Sickly  —  wuz  consumpted  when 
Word  came  'bout  her  husband.  —  So 
Folks  perdicted  she'd  soon  go  — 

241 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

(Kind  o'  grief  7  understand, 
Losin'  my  companion, — and 
Still  a  widower — and  still 
Hinted  at,  like  neighbers  will!) 
So,  app'inted,  as  folks  said, 
Ballenger  a-bein*  dead, 
Widder,  'peared-like,  gradjully, 
Jes'  grieved  after  him  tel  she 
Died,  nex'  Aprile  wuz  a  year, — 
And,  in  Armazindy's  keer 
Leavin'  the  two  twins,  as  well 
As  her  pore  old  miz'able 
Old-maid  aunty  'at  had  be'n 
Struck  with  palsy,  and  wuz  then 
Jes'  a  he'pless  charge  on  her — 
Armazindy  Ballenger. 

Jevver  watch  a  primrose  'bout 
Minute  'fore  it  blossoms  out — 
Kind  o'  loosen-like,  and  blow 
Up  its  muscles,  don't  you  know, 
And,  all  suddent,  bu'st  and  bloon? 
Out  life-size? — Well,  I  persume 
'At's  the  only  measure  I 
Kin  size  Armazindy  by! — 
Jes'  a  child,  one  minute, — nex', 
Woman-grown,  in  all  respec's 
And  intents  and  purposuz — 
'At's  what  Armazindy  wuz! 

Jes'  a  child,  I  tell  ye !    Yit 
She  made  things  git  up  and  git 

242 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

Round  that  little  farm  o'  hern  I— 
Shouldered  all  the  whole  concern ; — 
Feed  the  stock,  and  milk  the  cows — 
Run  the  farm  and  run  the  house! — 
Only  thing  she  didn't  do 
Wuz  to  plow  and  harvest  too — 
But  the  house  and  childern  took 
Lots  o'  keer — and  had  to  look 
After  her  old  fittined 
Grand-aunt. — Lord !  ye  could  'a*  cried? 
Seein'  Armazindy  smile, 
'Peared-like,  sweeter  all  the  while ! 
And  I've  heerd  her  laugh  and  say : — 
"Jes'  afore  Pap  marched  away, 
He  says  'I  depend  on  you, 
Armazindy,  come  what  may — 
You  must  be  a  Soldier,  too !' " 

Neighbers,  from  the  fust,  'ud  come — 

And  she'd  let  'em  help  her  some, — 

"Thanky,  ma'am  !"  and  "Thanky,  sir !" 

But  no  charity  fer  her! — 

"She  could  raise  the  means  to  pay 

Fer  her  farm-hands  ever'  day 

Sich  wuz  needed!" — And  she  could — 

In  cash-money  jes'  as  good 

As  farm  produc's  ever  brung 

Their  perducer,  old  er  young ! 

So  folks  humored  her  and  smiled, 

And  at  last  wuz  rickonciled 

Fef  to  let  her  have  her  own 

Way  about  it. — But  a-goin' 

243 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Past  to  town,  they'd  stop  and  see 
"Armazindy's  fambily," 
As  they'd  allus  laugh  and  say, 
And  look  sorry  right  away, 
Thinkin'  of  her  Pap,  and  how 
He'd  indorse  his  "Soldier"  now! 

'Course  she  couldn't  never  be 

Much  in  young-folks'  company — 

Plenty  of  in-vites  to  go, 

But  das't  leave  the  house,  you  know— 

'Less'n  Sund'ys  sometimes,  when 

Some  old  Granny'd  come  and  'ten' 

Things,   while  Armazindy  has 

Got  away  fer  Church  er  "Class." 

Most  the  youngsters  liked  her — and 

'Twuzn't  hard  to  understand, — • 

Fer,  by  time  she  wuz  sixteen, 

Purtier  girl  you  never  seen — 

'Ceptin'  she  lacked  .schoolin',  ner 

Couldn't  rag  out  stylisher — 

Like  some  neighber-girls,  ner  thumb 

On  their  blame'  melodium, 

Whilse  their  pore  old  mothers  sloshed 

Round  the  old  back-porch  and  washed 

Their  clothes  fer  'em — rubbed  and  scrubbed 

Fer  girls'd  ort  to  jes'  be'n  clubbed ! 

—And  jes'  sich  a  girl  wuz  Jule 
Reddinhouse. — She'd  be'n  to  school 
At  New  Thessaly,  i  gum  ! — 
Fool  before,  but  that  he'pped  some — 

244 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

'Stablished-like  more  confidence 
'At  she  never  had  no  sense. 
But  she  wuz  a  cunnin',  sly, 
Meek  and  lowly  sort  o'  lie, 
'At  men-folks  like  me  and  you 
B'lieves  jes'  'cause  we  ortn't  to. — 
Jes'  as  purty  as  a  snake, 
And  as  pizen — mercy  sake  ! 
Well,  about  them  times  it  wuz, 
Young  Sol  Stephens  th'ashed  f er  us r, 
And  we  sent  him  over  to 
Armazindy's  place  to  do 
Her  work  f  er  her. — And-sir  !    Well- 
Mighty  little  else  to  tell,— 
Sol  he  fell  in  love  with  her — 
Armazindy  Ballenger! 

Bless  ye!— 'LI  of  all  the  love 
'At  I've  ever  yit  knowed  of, 
That-air  case  o'  theirn  beat  all ! 
W'y,  she  'worshiped  him ! — And  Sol, 
'Peared-like  could  'a'  kissed  the  sod 
(Sayin'  is)  where  that  girl  trod! 
Went  to  town,  she  did,  and  bought 
Lot  o'  things  'at  neighbers  thought 
Mighty  strange  fer  her  to  buy, — 
Raal  chintz  dress-goods — and  'way  high  !- 
Cut  long  in  the  skyrt, — also 
Gaiter-pair  o'  shoes,  you  know; 
And  lace  collar  ; — yes,  and  fine 
Stylish  hat,  with  ivy-vine 
And  red  ribbons,  and  these-'ere 
Artificial  flowers  and  queer 

245 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Little  beads  and  spangles,  and 
Oysturch-f  eathers  round  the  band  ! 
Wore  'em,  Sund'ys,  fer  a  while — 
Kind  o'  went  to  Church  in  style, 
Sol  and  Armazindy ! — Tel 
It  was  noised  round  purty  well 
They  wuz  promised. — And  they  wuz— 
Sich  news  travels — well  it  does  ! — 
Pity  'at  that  did! — Fer  jes' 
That-air  fac'  and  nothin'  less 
Must  'a'  putt  it  in  the  mind 
O'  Jule  Reddinhouse  to  find 
Out  some  dratted  way  to  hatch 
Out  some  plan  to  break  the  match — 
'Cause  she  done  it ! — Howl'  they's  nonr- 
Knows  adzac'ly  what  she  done ; 
Some  claims  she  writ  letters  to 
Sol's  folks,  up  nigh  Pleasant  View 
Somers — and  described,  you  see, 
"Armazindy's  fambily" — 
Hintin'  "ef  Sol  married  her, 
He'd  jes'  be  pervidin'  fer 
Them-air  twins  o'  hern,  and  old 
Palsied  aunt  'at  couldn't  hold 
Spoon  to  mouth,  and  layin'  near 
Bedrid  on  to  eighteen  year, 
And  still  likely,  'pearantly, 
To  live  out  the  century !" 
Well — whatever  plan  Jule  laid 
Out  to  reach  the  p'int  she  made, 
It  wuz  desper't — And  she  won, 
Finully,  by  marryun 

246 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Sol  herse'f — e-lopin',  too, 
With  him,  like  she  had  to  do, — 
'Cause  her  folks  'ud  allus  swore 
"Jule  should  never  marry  porel" 

This-here  part  the  story  I 

Allus  haf  to  hurry  by, — 

Way  'at  Armazindy  jes' 

Drapped  back  in  her  linsey  dress, 

And  grabbed  holt  her  loom,  and  shet 

Her  jaws  square. — And  ef  she  fret 

Any  'bout  it — never  'peared 

Sign  'at  neighbers  seed  er  heerd; — 

Most  folks  liked  her  all  the  more — 

I  know  I  did — certain-shore ! — 

(Course  I'd  knowed  her  Pap,  and  what 

Stock  she  come  of. — Yes,  and  thought, 

And  think  yit,  no  man  on  earth 

'S  worth  as  much  as  that  girl's  worth!) 

As  fer  Jule  and  Sol,  they  had 

Their  sheer  !— less  o'  good  than  bad  !— 

Her  folks  let  her  go.— They  said, 

"Spite  o'  them  she'd  made  her  bed 

And  must  sleep  in  it !" — But  she, 

'Peared-like,  didn't  sleep  so  free 

As  she  ust  to — ner  so  late, 

Ner  so  fine,  I'm  here  to  state  !— 

Sol  wuz  pore,  of  course,  and  she 

Wuzn't  ust  to  poverty — 

Ner  she  didn't  'pear  to  jes' 

'Filiate  with  lonesomeness, — 

247 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

'Cause  Sol  he  wuz  off  and  out 
With  his  th'asher  nigh  about 
Half  the  time ;  er,  season  done, 
He'd  be  off  mi-anderun 
Round  the  country,  here  and  there, 
Swoppin'  hosses.    Well,  that-air 
Kind  o'  livin'  didn't  suit 
Jule  a  bit ! — and  then,  to  boot, 
She  had  now  the  keer  o'  two 
Her  own  childern — and  to  do 
Her  own  work  and  cookin' — yes, 
And  sometimes  fer  hands,  I  guess, 
Well  as  fambily  of  her  own. — 
Cut  her  pride  clean  to  the  bone ! 
So  how  could  the  whole  thing  end? — 
She  set  down,  one  night,  and  penned 
A  short  note,  like — 'at  she  sewed 
On  the  childern's  blanket — blowed 
Out  the  candle— pulled  the  door 
To  close  after  her — and,  shore- 
Footed  as  a  cat  is,  dumb 
In  a  rigg  there  and  left  home, 
With  a  man  a-drivin'  who 
"Loved  her  ever  fond  and  true," 
As  her  note  went  on  to  say, 
When  Sol  read  the  thing  next  day. 
'  Y'j-HA  02  '*i9fi— -ot  i?fi  si'f?  s  A 

Raaly  didn't  'pear  to  be 
Extry  waste  o'  sympathy 
Over  Sol— pore  feller!— Yit, 
Sake  o'  them-air  little  bit 

248 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

O'  two  orphants — as  you  might 
Call  'em  then,  by  law  and  right, — 
Sol's  old  friends  wuz  sorry,  and 
Tried  to  hold  him  out  their  hand 
Same  as  allus :    But  he'd  flinch — 
Tel,  jes'  'peared-like,  inch  by  inch, 
He  let  all  holts  go ;  and  so 
Took  to  drinkin',  don't  you  know, — 
Tel,  to  make  a  long  tale  short, 
He  wuz  fuller  than  he  ort 
To  'a'  be'n,  at  work  one  day 
'Bout  his  th'asher,  and  give  way, 
Kind  o'  like  and  fell  and  ketched 
In  the  beltin'. 

.    .    .     Rid  and  fetched 
Armazindy  to  him. — He 
Begged  me  to.— But  time  'at  she 
Reached  his  side,  he  smiled  and  tried 
To  speak— Couldn't.     So  he  died.     .    . 
Hands  all  turned  and  left  her  there 
And  went  somers  else — jow^where. 
Last,  she  called  us  back — in  clear 
Voice  as  man'll  ever  hear — 
Clear  and  stiddy,  'peared  to  me, 
As  her  old  Pap's  ust  to  be.— 
Give  us  orders  what  to  do 
'Bout  the  body — he'pped  us,  too. 
So  it  wuz,  Sol  Stephens  passed 
In  Armazindy's  hands  at  last. 
More'n  that,  she  claimed  'at  she 
Had  consent  from  him  to  be 


249 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Mother  to  his  childern — now 
Thout  no  parents  anyhow. 

Yes-sir!  and  she's  got  'em,  too, — 
Folks  saw  nothin'  else  'ud  do — 
So  they  let  her  have  her  way — 
Like  she's  doin'  yit  to-day ! 
Years  now,  I've  be'n  coaxin'  her — 
Armazindy  Ballenger — 
To  in-large  her  fambily 
Jes'  one  more  by  takin'  me — 
Which  I'm  feared  she  never  will, 
Though  I'm  'lectioneerin'  still. 


132     Writln'  Back  to  the  Home-Folks 

MY  dear  old  friends— It  jes'  beats  all, 
The  way  you  write  a  letter 
So's  ever'  last  line  beats  the  first, 

And  ever'  next-un's  better ! — 
W'y»  ever'  fool-thing  you  putt  down 

You  make  so  mterest'm', 
A  feller,  readin'  of  'em  all, 
Can't  tell  which  is  the  best-un. 

It's  all  so  comfortin'  and  good, 
'Pears-like  I  almost  hear  ye 

And  git  more  sociabler,  you  know, 
And  hitch  my  cheer  up  near  ye 
250 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  jes'  smile  on  ye  like  the  sun 
Acrosst  the  whole  per-rairies 

In  Aprile  when  the  thaw's  begun 
And  country  couples  marries. 

It's  all  so  good-old-fashioned  like 

To  talk  jes'  like  we're  thinkin', 
Without  no  hidin'  back  o'  fans 

And  giggle-un  and  winkin', 
Ner  sizin'  how  each  other's  dressed — 

Like  some  is  allus  doin' — 
"Is  Marthy  Ellen's  basque  be'n  turned 

Er  shore-enough  a  new-un  !" — 

Er  "ef  Steve's  city-friend  hain't  jes' 

'A  leetle  kind  o'  sort  o' '  " — 
Er  "wears  them-air  blame*  eye-glasses 

Jes'  'cause  he  hadn't  ort  to?" — 
And  so  straight  on,  dad-libitum, 

Tel  all  of  us  feels,  someway, 
Jes'  like  our  "comp'ny"  wuz  the  best 

When  we  git  up  to  come  'way ! 

That's  why  I  like  old  friends  like  you?- 

Jes'  'cause  you're  so  abidin'. — 
Ef  I  was  built  to  live  "jer  kteps," 

My  principul  residin' 
Would  be  amongst  the  folks  'at  kep' 

Me  allus  thinkin'  of  'em 
And  sort  o'  eechin'  all  the  time 

To  tell  'em  how  I  love  'em. — 


251 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Sich  folks,  you  know,  I  jes'  love  so 

I  wouldn't  live  without  'em, 
Er  couldn't  even  drap  asleep 

But  what  I  dreamp*  about  'em, — 
And  ef  we  minded  God,  I  guess 

We'd  all  love  one  another 
Jes'  like  one  famb'ly, — me  and  Pap 

And  Madaline  and  Mother. 


I33  The  Muskingum  Valley 

THE  Muskingum  Valley — How  longin'  the  gaze 
A  feller  throws  back  on  its  long  summer  days, 
When  the  smiles  of  its  blossoms  and  my  smiles  wuz  one- 
And-the-same,  from  the  rise  to  the  set  o'  the  sun : 
Wher'  the  hills  sloped  as  soft  as  the  dawn  down  to  noon, 
And  the  river  run  by  like  an  old  fiddle-tune, 
And  the  hours  glided  past  as  the  bubbles  'ud  glide, 
All  so  loaferin'-like,  'long  the  path  o'  the  tide. 

In  the  Muskingum  Valley — it  'peared  like  the  skies 
Looked  lovin'  on  me  as  my  own  mother's  eyes, 
While  the  laughin'-sad  song  of  the  stream  seemed  to  be 
Like  a  lullaby  angels  was  wastin'  on  me — 
Tel,  swimmin'  the  air,  like  the  gossamer's  thread, 
'Twixt  the  blue  underneath  and  the  blue  overhead, 
My  thoughts  went  astray  in  that  so-to-speak  realm 
Wher'  Sleep  bared  her  breast  as  a  piller  fer  them. 
252 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

In  the  Muskingum  Valley,  though  far,  far  a-way, 
I  know  that  the  winter  is  bleak  there  to-day — 
No  bloom  ner  perfume  on  the  brambles  er  trees — 
Wher'  the  buds  used  to  bloom,  now  the  icicles  freeze. — 
That  the  grass  is  all  hid  'long  the  side  of  the  road 
Wher'  the  deep  snow  has  drifted  and  shifted  and  blowed — • 
And  I  feel  in  my  life  the  same  changes  is  there, — 
The  frost  in  my  heart,  and  the  snow  in  my  hair. 

But,  Muskingum  Valley !  my  memory  sees 

Not  the  white  on  the  ground,  but  the  green  in  the  trees — 

Not  the  froze'-over  gorge,  but  the  current,  as  clear 

And  warm  as  the  drop  that  has  jes'  trickled  here; 

Not  the  choked-up  ravine,  and  the  hills  topped  with  snow, 

But  the  grass  and  the  blossoms  I  knowed  long  ago 

When  my  little  bare  feet  wundered  down  wher'  the  stream 

In  the  Muskingum  Valley  flowed  on  like  a  dream. 


134         "Plow  Did  You  Rest,  Last 
Night?" 

"T  TOW  did  you  rest,  last  night?"— 

A  -L     I've  heard  my  gran'pap  say 
Them  words  a  thousand  times — that's  right — • 

Jes'  them  words  thataway! 
As  punctchul-like  as  morning  dast 

To  ever  heave  in  sight 
Gran'pap  'ud  allus  haf  to  ast — 

"How  did  you  rest,  last  night?" 

253 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Us  young-uns  used  to  grin, 

At  breakfast,  on  the  sly, 
And  mock  the  wobble  of  his  chin     .  -,._,.-, 

And  eyebrows  helt  so  high 
And  kind :   "How  did  you  rest,  last  night?' 

We'd  mumble  and  let  on 
Our  voices  trimbled,  and  our  sight 

Was  dim,  and  hearin'  gone. 


Bad  as  I  used  to  be, 

All  I'm  a-wantin'  is 
As  puore  and  ca'm  a  sleep  fer  me 

And  sweet  a  sleep  as  his ! 
And  so  I  pray,  on  Jedgmcnt  Day 

To  wake,  and  with  its  light 
Sec  his  face  dawn,  and  hear  him  say — • 

"How  did  you  rest,  last  night?" 


T35      Up  an^  Doivn  Old  Brandy  wine 

UP  and  down  old  Brandywine, 
In  the  days  'at's  past  and  gone — 
With  a  dad-burn  hook-and-line 
And  a  saplin'-pole — i  swawn  ! 

I've  had  more  fun,  to  the  square 
Inch,  than  ever  awvwhere ! 
Heaven  to  come  can't  discount  mine, 
U?  and  down  old  Brandywine ! 

254 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Hain't  no  sense  in  wishin' — yit 

Wisht  to  goodness  I  could  jes' 

"Gee"  the  blame'  world  round  and  git 

Back  to  that  old  happiness ! — 

Kind  o'  drive  back  in  the  shade 
"The  old  Covered  Bridge"  there  laid 
'Crosst  the  crick,  and  sort  o'  soak 
My  soul  over,  hub  and  spoke  1 

Honest,  now ! — it  hain't  no  dream 
'At  I'm  wantin', — but  the  fac's 
As  they  wuz ;  the  same  old  stream, 
And  the  same  old  times,  i  jacks! — 
Gimme  back  my  bare  feet — and 
Stonebruise  too  ! — And  scratched  and  tanned  !- 
And  let  hottest  dog-days  shine 
Up  and  down  old  Brandywine ! 

In  and  on  betwixt  the  trees 

'Long  the  banks,  pour  down  yer  noon, 
Kind  o'  curdled  with  the  breeze 
And  the  yallerhammer's  tune ; 

And  the  smokin',  chokin'  dust 

O'  the  turnpike  at  its  wusst — 

Saturd'ys,  say,  when  it  seems 

Road's  jes'  jammed  with  country  teams! — 

Whilse  the  old  town,  fur  away 

'Crosst  the  hazy  pastur'-land, 
Dozed-like  in  the  heat  o'  day 

Peaceful*  as  a  hired  hand. 


255 


THE   HOOSIER  BOOK 

Jolt  the  gravel  th'ough  the  floor 
O'  the  old  bridge ! — grind  and  roar 
With  yer  blame'  percession-line — 
Up  and  down  old  Brandywine ! 

Souse  me  and  my  new  straw-hat 

Off  the  foot-log !— what  /  care?— 
Fist  shoved  in  the  crown  o'  that — 

Like  the  old  Clown  ust  to  wear. — 
Wouldn't  swop  it  fer  a'  old 
Gin-u-wine  raal  crown  o'  gold ! — 
Keep  yer  King  ef  you'll  gimme 
Jes'  the  boy  I  ust  to  be ! 

Spill  my  fishin'-worms !  er  steal 

My  best  "goggle-eye  !" — but  you 
Can't  lay  hands  on  joys  I  feel 
Nibblin'  like  they  ust  to  do ! 
So,  in  memory,  to-day 
Same  old  ripple  lips  away 
At  my  cork  and  saggin'  line, 
Up  and  down  old  Brandywine! 

There  the  logs  is,  round  the  hill, 

Where  "Old  Irvin"  ust  to  lift 
Out  sunfish  from  daylight  till 

Dewfall— 'fore  he'd  leave  "The  Drift" 
And  give  us  a  chance — and  then 
Kind  o'  fish  back  home  again, 
Ketchin'  'em  jes'  left  and  right 
Where  ivc  hadn't  got  "a  bite" ! 


256 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Er,  'way  windin'  out  and  in, — 

Old  path  th'ough  the  iurnweeds 
And  dog-fennel  to  yer  chin — 

Then  come  suddent,  th'ough  the  reeds 
And  cattails,  smack  into  where 
Them-air  woods-hogs  list  to  scare 
Us  clean  'crosst  the  County-line, 
Up  and  down  old  Brandy  wine ! 

But  the  dim  roar  o'  the  dam 

It  'ud  coax  us  furder  still 
To'rds  the  old  race,  slow  and  ca'm, 
Slidin'  on  to  Huston's  mill — 

Where,  I  'spect,  "the  Freeport  crowd" 
Never  warmed  to  us  er  'lowed 
We  wuz  quite  so  overly 
Welcome  as  we  aimed  to  be. 

Still  it  'peared-like  ever'thing — 

Fur  away  from  home  as  there — 
Had  more  relish-like,  i  jing! — 
Fish  in  stream,  er  bird  in  air ! 

O  them  rich  old  bottom-lands, 

Past  where  Cowden's  Schoolhouse  stands ! 

Wbrtcrmelons — master-mine! 

Up  and  down  old  Brandywine ! 

TorJ-teriv     rn    f  !•  j,Tn  '•-  !>-?>!  ?;r?A 
And  sich  pop-paws ! — Lumps  o'  raw 

Gold  and  green, — jes'  oozy  th'ough 
With  ripe  yaller — like  you've  saw 
Custard-pie  with  no  crust  to : 

,!ood:>a  Is  ^a«!>iy,rrtrf  1  vn-T  nl 


257 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  jes'  gorges  o'  wild  plums, 
Till  a  feller'd  suck  his  thumbs 
Clean  up  to  his  elbows!     My! — 
Me  some  more  cr  lem  me  die! 

Up  and  down  old  Brandywine ! 

Stripe  me  with  pokeberry-juice! — 
Flick  me  with  a  pizen-vine 

And  yell  "Yip!"  and  lem  me  loose! 
— Old  now  as  I  then  wuz  young, 
'F  I  could  sing  as  I  have  sung, 
Song  'ud  surety  ring  dee-vine 
Up  and  down  old  Brandywine! 


136  My  Henry 

HE'S  jes'  a  great,  big,  awk'ard,  hulkin' 
Feller, — humped,  and  sort  o'  sulkin' 
Like,  and  ruther  still-appearin' — 
Kind-as-ef  he  wuzn't  keerin' 

Whether  school  helt  out  er  not — 
That's  my  Henry,  to  a  dot ! 

Allus  kind  o'  liked  him — whether 
Childern,  er  growed-up  together! 
Fifteen  year'  ago  and  better, 
'Fore  he  ever  knowed  a  letter, 
Run  acrosst  the  little  fool 
In  my  Primer-class  at  school. 

258 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

When  the  Teacher  wuzn't  lookin' 
He'd  be  th'owin'  wads ;  er  crookin' 
Pins ;  er  sprinklin'  pepper,  more'n 
Likely,  on  the  stove ;  er  borin' 

Gimlet-holes  up  thue  his  desk — 
Nothin'  that  boy  wouldn't  reskl 

But,  somehow,  as  I  was  goin' 
On  to  say,  he  seemed  so  knowin', 
Other  ways,  and  cute  and  cunnin' — 
Allus  wuz  a  notion  runnin' 

Thue  my  giddy,  fool-head  he 

Jes'  had  be'n  cut  out  f  er  me ! 

Don't  go  much  on  prophesyin' 
But  last  night  whilse  I  wuz  fryin' 
Supper,  with  that  man  a-pitchin' 
Little  Marthy  'round  the  kitchen, 

Think-says-I,  "Them  baby's  eyes 

Is  my  Henry's,  jes'  p'cise!" 

137  When  Lide  Married  Him 

WHEN  Lide  married  him — w'y,  she  had  to  jes'  dee-fy 
The  whole  popilation  ! — But  she  never  bat'  an  eye ! 
Her  parents  begged,  and  threatened — she  must  give  him  up 

—that  he 

Wuz  jes'  "a  common   drunkard!" — And  he  wuz,  appear- 
antly. — 

Swore  they'd  chase  him  off  the  place 
Ef  he  ever  showed  his  face — 

259 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Long  after  she'd  eloped  with  him  and  married  him   fer 

shore  !— 
When  Lide  married  him,  it  wuz  "Katy,  bar  the  door!" 

When  Lide  married  him — Well!  she  had  to  go  and  be 

A  hired  girl  in  town  somewheres — while  he  tromped  round 

to  see 
What  he  could  git  that  he  could  do,— you  might  say,  jes' 

sawed  wood 
From  door  to  door !— that's  what  he  done— 'cause  that  wuz 

best  he  could ! 

And  the  strangest  thing,  i  jing! 
Wuz,  he  didn't  drink  a  thing, — 

But  jes'  got  down  to  bizness,  like  he  someway  wanted  to, 
When  Lide  married  him,  like  they  warned  her  not  to  do ! 

When  Lide  married  him — er,  ruther  had  be'n  married 
A  little  up'ards  of  a  year — some  feller  come  and  carried 
That  hired  girl  away  with  him — a  ruther  stylish  feller 
In  a  bran-new  green  spring-wagon,  with  the  wheels  striped 

red  and  yeller : 

And  he  whispered,  as  they  driv 
To'rds  the  country,  "Now  we'll  live!'f- 
And  somepin'  else  she  laughed  to  hear,  though  both  her 

eyes  wuz  dim, 
'Bout  "trustin'  Love  and  Heav'n  above,  sence  Lide  married 

'  vsV  Jfirfj— 

:  ffOfmrKO    '&"    V>t    *fjYv 
— .yltmj 


260 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


138  "Ringworm  Frank" 

JEST  Frank  Reed's  his  real  name— though 
Boys  all  calls  him  "Ringworm  Frank," 
'Cause  he  allus  runs  round  so. — 
No  man  can't  tell  where  to  bank 
Frank'll  be, 
Next  you  see 

Er  hear  of  him  ! — Drat  his  melts  ! — 
That  man's  allus  somers  else! 

We're  old  pards. — But  Frank  he  jest 

Can't  stay  still ! — Wuz  frosper'n'  here, 
But  lit  out  on  furder  West 
Somers  on  a  ranch,  last  year : 
Never  heard 
Nary  a  word 

How  he  liked  it,  tel  to-day, 
Got  this  card,  reads  thisaway : — 

"Dad-burn  climate  out  here  makes 

Me  homesick  all  Winter  long, 
And  when  Spring-time  comes,  it  takes 
Two  pee-wees  to  sing  one  song, — 
One  sing  'pee' 
And  the  other  one  'wee!' 
Stay  right  where  you  air,  old  pard. — 
Wisht  7  wuz  this  postal  card  !" 


261 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


139  The  Youthful  Patriot 

OWHAT  did  the  little  boy  do 
'At  nobody  wanted  him  to  ? 
Didn't  do  nothin'  but  romp  an'  run, 
An'  whoop  an'  holler  an'  bang  his  gun 
An'  bu'st  fire-crackers,  an'  ist  have  fun- 
An'  'at's  all  the  little  boy  done ! 


140  Folks  at  Lonesomeville 

PORE-Folks  lives  at  Lonesomeville— 
Lawzy !  but  they're  pore  ! 
Houses  with  no  winders  in, 

And  hardly  any  door : 
Chimbly  all  tore  down,  and  no 

Smoke  in  that  at  all — 
Ist  a  stovepipe  through  a  hole 
In  the  kitchen  wall ! 

Pump  'at's  got  no  handle  on  ; 

And  no  woodshed — And,  wooh! — 
Mighty  cold  there,  choppin'  wood, 

Like  pore-folks  has  to  do ! — 
Winter-time,  and  snow  and  sleet 

Ist  fairly  fit  to  kill  !— 
Hope  to  goodness  Santy  Claus 

Goes  to  Lonesomeville! 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


141  The  Three  Jolly  Hunters 

0  THERE  were  three  jolly  hunters; 
And  a-hunting  they  did  go, 
With  a  spaniel-dog,  and  a  pointer-dog, 
And  a  setter-dog  also. 

Looky  there! 

And  they  hunted  and  they  hal-looed ; 

And  the  first  thing  they  did  find 
Was  a  dingling-dangling  hornet's-nest 

A-swinging  in  the  wind. 

Looky  there! 

And  the  first  one  said — "What  is  it?" 
Said  the  next,  "We'll  punch  and  see" : 

And  the  next  one  said,  a  mile  from  there,, 
"I  wish  we'd  let  it  be !" 

Looky  there! 

And  they  hunted  and  they  hal-looed ; 

And  the  next  thing  they  did  raise 
Was  a  bobbin'  bunny  cottontail 

That  vanished  from  their  gaze. 
Looky  there! 

One  said  it  was  a  hot  baseball, 
Zippt  through  the  brambly  thatch, 

But  the  others  said  'twas  a  note  by  post 
Or  a  telegraph-despatch. 

Looky  there! 

263 


THE   HOOSIER  BOOK 

So  they  hunted  and  they  hal-looed ; 

And  the  next  thing  they  did  sight 
Was  a  great  big  bulldog  chasing  them, 

And  a  farmer,  hollerin'  "Skite!" 
Looky  there! 

And  the  first  one  said,  "Hi-jinktum !" 
And  the  next,  "Hi-jinktum-jee!" 

And  the  last  one  said,  "Them  very  words 
Had  just  occurred  to  me  !" 

Looky  there! 


142        A  Few  of  the  Bird-Family 

THE  Old  Bob-white,  and  Chipbird; 
The  Flicker,  and  Chewink, 
And  little  hopty-skip  bird 
Along  the  river-brink. 

The  Blackbird,  and  Snowbird, 
The  Chicken-hawk,  and  Crane; 

The  glossy  old  black  Crow-bird, 
And  Buzzard  down  the  lane. 

The  Yellowbird,  and  Redbird, 

The  Tomtit,  and  the  Cat ; 
The  Thrush,  and  that  Redhead-bird 

The  rest's  all  pickin'  at ! 


264 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

The  Jay-bird,  and  the  Bluebird, 
The  Sapsuck,  and  the  Wren — • 

The  Cockadoodle-doo-bird, 
And  our  old  Settm'-hen ! 


143  The  Toy  Penny-Dog 

MA  put  my  Penny-Dog 
Safe  on  the  shelf, 
And  left  no  one  home  but  him, 

Me  and  myself ; 
So  I  clumbed  a  big  chair 

I  pushed  to  the  wall — 
But  the  Toy  Penny-Dog 

Ain't  there  at  all ! 
I  went  back  to  Dolly — 

And  she  'uz  gone  too, 
And  little  Switch  'uz  layin'  there ; — 

And  Ma  says  "Boo!" 
And  there  she  wuz  a-peepin' 

Through  the  front-room  door : 
And  I  ain't  goin*  to  be  a  bad 

Little  girl  no  more! 
Inv/of:  riorfw  v/mul 


265 


HOME-FOLKS 


144  Home-Folks 

HOME-FOLKS !— Well,  that-air  name,  to  me, 
Sounds  jis  the  same  as  poetry — 
That  is,  ef  poetry  is  jis 
As  sweet  as  I've  hearn  tell  it  is  I 

(rnhl  jnd  oinoji  3;to  oa  jlol  bnA 
Home-Folks — they're  jis  the  same  as  kin — 

All  brung  up,  same  as  we  have  bin, 
Without  no  overpowerin'  sense 
Of  their  oncommon  consequence  I 

They've  bin  to  school,  but  not  to  git 
The  habit  fastened  on  'em  yit 
So  as  to  ever  interfere 
With  other  work  'at's  waitin'  here: 

Home-Folks  has  crops  to  plant  and  plow, 
Er  lives  in  town  and  keeps  a  cow ; 
But  whether  country-jakes  er  town-, 
They  know  when  eggs  is  up  er  down ! 

La !  can't  you  spot  'em — when  you  meet 
'Em  anywheres — in  field  er  street? 
And  can't  you  see  their  faces,  bright 
As  circus-day,  heave  into  sight? 

266 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

And  can't  you  hear  their  "Howdy  !"  clear 
As  a  brook's  chuckle  to  the  ear, 
And  allus  find  their  laughin'  eyes 
As  fresh  and  clear  as  morning  skies  ? 

!ii  \&  moilod  arfr-te  «»-'o:<  i£Da£i  ^aui.blouo^' 
And  can't  you—  when  the}'Ve  gone  away 
Jis  feel  'em  shakin'  hands,  all  day? 
And  feel,  too,  you've  bin  higher  raised 
By  sich  a  meetin'  ?  —  God  be  praised  ! 

Oh,  Home-Folks  !  you're  the  best  of  all 
'At  ranges  this  terreschul  ball,  — 
But,  north  er  south,  er  east  er  west, 
It's  home  is  where  you're  at  your  best.  —  • 

•jh(')  O'.o:;  iUoy   rftiw   ,3/>}?/rbfi£le  Viiy^£2  1<>'  i'noCT 
It's  home  —  it's  home  your  faces  shine, 
In-nunder  your  own  fig  and  vine  — 
Your  fambly  and  your  neighbers  'bout 
Ye,  and  the  latch-string  hangin'  out 


Home-Folks—  at  home,  —  I  know  o'  one 
Old  feller  now  'at  hain't  got  none.  — 
Invite  him  —  he  may  hold  back  some  — 
But  you  invite  him,  and  he'll  come. 


Mister  Hop-Toad 


HOWDY,  Mister  Hop-Toad  !     Glad  to  see  you  out  ! 
Bin  a  month  o'  Sund'ys  sence  I  seen  you  hereabout. 
Kind  o'  bin  a-layin'  in,  from  the  frost  and  snow? 
Good  to  see  you  out  ag'in,  it's  bin  so  long  ago  ! 

267 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Plows  like  slicin'  cheese,  and  sod's  loppin'  over  even; 
Loam's  like  gingerbread,  and  clod's  softer'n  deceivin' — 
Mister   Hop-Toad,   honest-true  —  Spring-time  —  don't  you 

love  it? 
You  old  rusty  rascal  you,  at  the  bottom  of  it ! 

Oh !  oh !  oh ! 
I  grabs  up  my  old  hoe ; 
But  I  sees  you, 
And  s'l,  "Ooh-ooh! 
Howdy,  Mister  Hop-Toad!     How-dee-do!" 

Make  yotirse'f  more  comfo'bler — square  round  at  your 

ease — 
Don't  set  saggin'  slanchwise,  with  your  nose  below  your 

knees. 
Swell  that  fat  old  throat  o'  yourn  and  lemme  see  you 

swaller ; 
Straighten  up  and  h'ist  your  head ! — You  don't  owe  a 

dollar  !— 

Hain't  no  mor'gage  on  your  land — ner  no  taxes,  nuther ; 
You  don't  haf  to  work  no  roads,  even  ef  you'd  ruther. 
'F  I  was  you,  and  fixed  like  you,  I  railly  wouldn't  keer 
To  swop  f er  life  and  hop  right  in  the  presidential  cheer ! 


Oh !  oh !  oh ! 

I  hauls  back  my  old  hoe ; 
But  I  sees  you, 
And  s'  I,  "Ooh-ooh ! 
Howdy,  Mister  Hop-Toad !     How-dee-do  !" 


u  871  ,m  3fi  luo  HOY  'j^:  c.l  h 
268 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

'Long  about  next  Aprile,  hoppin'  down  the  furry, 

Won't  you  mind  I  ast  you  what  'peared  to  be  the  hurry  ? — 

Won't  you  mind  I  hooked  my  hoe  and  hauled  you  back  and 

smiled  ? — 

W'y,  bless  you,  Mister  Hop-Toad,  I  love  you  like  a  child ! 
S'pose  I'd  want  to  'flict  you  any  more'n  what  you  air? — 
S'pose  I  think  you  got  no  rights  'cept  the  warts  you  wear  ? 
Hulk,  sulk,  and  blink  away,  you  old  bloat-eyed  rowdy! — 
Hain't  you  got  a  word  to  say? — Won't  you  tell  me 

"Howdy"? 

Oh  !  oh  !  oh ! 

I  swish  round  my  old  hoe ; 
But  I  sees  you, 
And  s'  I,  "Ooh-ooh ! 
Howdy,  Mister  Hop-Toad!     How-dee-do!" 


146  Uncle  Sidney's  Logic 

PA  wunst  he  scold'  an'  says  to  me. 
"Don't  play  so  much,  but  try 
To  study  more,  and  nen  you'll  be 

A  great  man,  by  an'  by." 
Nen  Uncle  Sidney  says,  "You  let 

Him  be  a  boy  an'  play. — 
The  greatest  man  on  earth,  I  bet, 
'Ud  trade  with  him  to-day!" 


269 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


The  Schoolboy's  Favorite 

Over  the  river  and  through  the  wood 

Now  Grandmother's  cap  I  spy: 
Hurrah  for  the  fun!   Is  the  pudding  done? 

Hurrah  for  the  pumpkin-pie! 

— SCHOOL  READER. 

FER  any  boy  'at's  little  as  me, 
Er  any  little  girl, 
That-un's  the  goodest  poetry-piece 

In  any  book  in  the  worl' ! 
An'  ef  grown-peoples  wuz  little  ag'in 

I  bet  they'd  say  so,  too, 
Ef  they'd  go  see  their  ole  Gran'ma, 
Like  our  Pa  lets  us  do ! 

Over  the  river  an'  through  the  wood 

Now  Gran' mother's  cap  I  spy: 
Hurrah  fer  the  fun! — Is  the  puddin'  done? — 

Hurrah  fer  the  punkin-pie! 

An*  I'll  tell  you  why  'at's  the  goodest  piece : — 

'Cause  it's  ist  like  we  go 
To  our  Gran'ma's,  a-visitun  there, 

When  our  Pa  he  says  so; 
An*  Ma  she  fixes  my  little  cape-coat 

An'  little  fuzz-cap;  an'  Pa 
He  tucks  me  away — an'  yells  "Hoo-ray!" — 
An*  whacks  Ole  Gray,  an'  drives  the  sleigh 

Fastest  you  ever  saw ! 
270 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Over  the  river  an'  through  the  wood 

Now  Gran' mother's  cap  I  spy: 
Hurrah  fer  the  fun! — Is  the  puddin'  done? — 

Hurrah  fer  the  punkin-pic! 

An*  Pa  ist  snuggles  me  'tween  his  knees — 

An'  I  he'p  hold  the  lines, 
An'  peek  out  over  the  buffalo-robe ; — 
An'  the  wind  is.t  blows! — an'  the  snow  ist  snows !- 

An'  the  sun  ist  shines !  an'  shines ! — 
An'  th'  old  horse  tosses  his  head  an'  coughs 

Th'  frost  back  in  our  face. — 
An*  F  ruther  go  to  my  Gran'ma's 

Than  any  other  place ! 

Over  the  river  an'  through  the  wood 

Now  Gran'mothcr's  cap  I  spy: 
Hurrah  fer  the  fun! — Is  the  puddin'  done? — 

Hurrah  fer  the  punkin-pie! 

An'  all  the  peoples  they  is  in  town 

Watches  us  whizzin'  past 
To  go  a-visitun  our  Gran'ma's, 

Like  we  all  went  there  last; — 
But  they  can't  go,  like  ist  our  folks 

An*  Johnny  an'  Lotty,  an'  three 
Er  four  neighber-childerns,  an'  Rober-ut  Volney 

An'  Charley  an'  Maggy  an'  me! 

Over  the  river  an'  through  the  wood 

Now  Gran'mothcr's  cap  I  spy: 
Hurrah  fer  the  fun! — Is  the  puddin'  done?— 

Hurrah  fer  the  punkin-pic! 

271 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


148  The  Little  Mock-Man 


E  Little  Mock-man  on  the  Stairs— 
JL      He  mocks  the  lady's  horse  'at  rares 

At  bi-sickles  an'  things,  — 
He  mocks  the  mens  'at  rides  'em,  too  ; 
An*  mocks  the  Movers,  drivin'  through, 
An*  hollers  "Here's  the  way  you  do 
With  them-air  hitchin'-strings  !" 
"Ho!  ho!"  he'll  say, 
Ole  Settlers'  Day, 
When  they're  all  jogglin'  by,  — 
"You  look  like  this," 
He'll  say,  an'  twis* 
His  mouth  an'  squint  his  eye 
An'  'tend  like  he  wuz  beat  the  bass 

Drum  at  both  ends  —  an'  toots  and  blares 
Ole  dinner-horn  an*  puffs  his  face  — 
The  Little  Mock-man  on  the  Stairs  ! 

The  Little  Mock-man  on  the  Stairs 
Mocks  all  the  peoples  all  he  cares 

'At  passes  up  an'  down  ! 
He  mocks  the  chickens  round  the  door, 
An'  mocks  the  girl  'at  scrubs  the  floor, 
An'  mocks  the  rich,  an'  mocks  the  pore, 
An*  ever'thing  in  town! 
"Ho  !  ho  !"  says  he, 
To  you  er  me; 


272 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

An*  ef  we  turns  an'  looks, 
He's  all  crosc-eyed 
An'  mouth  all  wide 
Like  Giunts  is,  in  books. — 
"Ho !  ho !"  he  yells,  "look  here  at  me" 

An'  rolls  his  fat  eyes  roun'  an'  glares, — 
"You  look  like  this!"  he  says,  says  he— 
The  Little  Mock-man  on  the  Stairs! 

The  Little  Mock— 
The  Little  Mock— 
The  Little  Mock-man  on  the  Stairs, 

He  mocks  the  music-box:  an'  clock, 
An'  roller-sofy  an'  the  chairs; 
He  mocks  his  Pa  an'  spec's  he  wears; 
He  mocks  the  man  'at  picks  the  pears 
An'  plums  an'  peaches  on  the  shares; 
He  mocks  the  monkeys  an'  the  bears 
On  picture-bills,  an'  rips  an'  tears 
'Em  down, — an'  mocks  ist  all  he  cares. 
An'  EvEKbody  EvER'wheres! 


149     Summer-Time  and  Winter-Time 

IN   the   golden   noon-shine, 
Or  in  the  pink  of  dawn; 
In  the  silver  moonshine, 
Or  when  the  moon  is  gone ; 


273 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Open  eyes,  or  drowsy  lids, 
'Wake  or  'most  asleep, 

I  can  hear  the  katydids, — 
"Cheep!  Cheep!  Cheep!" 

Only  in  the  winter-time 

Do  they  ever  stop, 
In  the  chip-and-splinter-time, 

When  the  backlogs  pop, — 
Then  it  is,  the  kettle-lids, 

While  the  sparkles  leap, 
Lisp  like  the  katydids, — 

"Cheep!  Cheep!  Cheep!" 


750          My  Dancin'-Days  Is  Over 

WHAT  is  it  in  old  fiddle-chimes  'at  makes  me  ketch 
my  breath 
And  ripples  up  my  backbone  tel  I'm  tickled  most 

to  death  ?— 
Kind  o'  like  that  sweet- sick  feelin',  in  the  long  sweep  of 

a  swing, 
The  first  you  ever  swung  in,  with  yer  first  sweetheart, 

i  jing! — 
Yer  first  picnic — ycr  first  ice-cream — yer  first  o'  ever'- 

thing 
'At  happened  'fore  yer  dancin'-days  wuz  over ! 

I  never  understood  it — and  I  s'pose  I  never  can, — 
But  right  in  town  here,  yisterd'y,  I  heerd  a  pore  blind- 
man 

274 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

A-fiddlin'   old   "Gray   Eagle"— And-sir\     I   jes'   stopped 

my  load 
O'  hay  and  listened  at  him — yes,  and  watched  the  way  he 

"bow'd," — 
And  back  I  went,  plum  forty  year',  with  boys  and  girls 

I  knowed 
And  loved,  long  'fore  my  dancin'-days  wuz  over! — 

At  high  noon  in  yer  city, — with  yer  blame'  Magnetic-Cars 
A-hummin'    and    a-screechin'    past — and    bands    and     G. 

A.  R.'s 
A-marchin' — and  fire-ingines. — All  the  noise,  the  whole 

street  through, 

Wuz  lost  on  me ! — I  only  heard  a  whipperwill  er  two, 
It  'peared-like,  kind  o'  callin'  'crost  the  darkness  and  the 

dew, 
Them  nights  afore  my  dancin'-days  wuz  over. 

T  'uz  Chused'y-night  at  Wetherell's,  er  We'n'sd'y-night  at 

Strawn's, 

Er  Fourth-o'-July-night  at  uther  Tomps's  house  er  John's  !— 
With  old  Lew  Church  from  Sugar  Crick,  with  that  old 

fiddle  he 
Had  sawed  clean  through  the  Army,   from  Atlanty  to 

the  sea — 
And  yit  he'd  fetched  her  home  ag'in,  so's  he  could  play 

fer  me 
Onc't  more  afore  my  dancin'-days  wuz  over ! 

The  woods  'at's  all  be'n  cut  away  wuz  growin'   same  as 

then ; 
The  youngsters   all   wuz  boys   ag'in    'at's   now   all   oldish 

men; 

275 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Ar.d   all  the  girls   'at   then  wuz  girls — I   saw   'em,   one 

and  all, 
As  plain  as  then — the  middle-sized,  the  short-and-fat,  and 

tall— 
And   'peared-like,    I   danced   "Tucker"   fer   'em  up  and 

down  the  wall 
Jes'  like  afore  my  dancin'-days  wuz  over ! 


The  facts  is,  I  wuz  dazed  so  'at  I  clean  f ergot  jes'  where 
(  railly  wuz, — a-blockin'  streets,  and  still  a-standin'  there : 
I  heard  the  />o-leece  yellin',  but  my  ears  wuz  kind  o' 

blurred — 
My  eyes,  too,  fer  the  odds  o'  that, — bekase  I  thought  I 

heard 
My  wife  'at's  dead  a-laughin'-like,  and  jokin',  word-fer- 

word 
Jes'  like  afore  her  dancin'-days  wuz  over. 


151  "Home  Ag'iri' 


I 


'M  a-feelin'  ruther  sad, 
Fer  a  father  proud  and  glad 


As  7  am — my  only  child 
Home,  and  all  so  rickonciled ! 
Feel  so  strange-like,  and  don't  know 
What  the  mischief  ails  me  so ! 
'Stid  o'  bad,  I  ort  to  be 
Feelin*  good  pertickerly — 

276 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Yes,  and  extry  thankful,  too, 
'Cause  my  nearest  kith  and  kin, 
My  Elviry's  schoolin'  's  through, 
And  I'  got  her  home  ag'in — 
Home  ag'in  with  me! 

Same  as  ef  her  mother'd  been 

Livin'.  I  have  done  my  best 

By  the  girl,  and  watchfulest; 

Nussed  her — keerful'  as  I  could — 

From  a  baby,  day  and  night, — 

Drawin'  on  the  neighberhood 

And  the  women-folks  as  light 

As  needsessity  'ud  'low — 

'Cept  in  "teethin',"  onc't,  and  fight 

Through  black-measles.     Don't  know  nov/ 

How  we  ever  saved  the  child! 

Doc  he'd  give  her  up,  and  said, 

As  I  stood  there  by  the  bed 

Sort  o'  foolin'  with  her  hair 

On  the  hot,  wet  pillar  there, 

"Wuz  no  use !" — And  at  them-air 

Very  words  she  waked  and  smiled — 

Yes,  and  knowed  me.    And  that's  where 

I  broke  down,  and  simply  jes' 

Bellered  like  a  boy — I  guess! — 

Women  claim  I  did,  but  I 

Allus  helt  I  didn't  cry 

But  wuz  laughin', — and  I  wuz, — 

Men  don't  crv  like  women  does ! 


277 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Well,  right  then  and  there  I  felt 
'T  'uz  her  mother's  doin's,  and, 
Jes'  like  to  mys'f,  I  knelt 
Whisperin',   "I  understand."    .    .    . 
So  I've  raised  her,  you  might  say, 
Stric'ly  in  the  narrer  way 
'At  her  mother  walked  therein — 
Not  so  quite  religiously, 
Yit  still  strivin'-like  to  do 
Ever'thing  a  father  could 
Do  he  knowed  the  mother  would 
Ef  she'd  lived — And  now  all's  through 
And  I'  got  her  home  ag'in — 
Home  ag'in  with  me! 

And  I'  been  so  lonesome,  too, 
Here  o'  late,  especially,— 
"Old  Aunt  Abigail,"  you  know, 
Ain't  no  company; — and  so 
Jes'  the  hired  hand,  you  see — 
Jonas — like  a  relative 
More — sence  he  come  here  to  live 
With  us,  nigh  ten  year'  ago. 
Still  he  don't  count  much,  you  know, 
In  the  way  o'  company — 
Lonesome,  'peared-like,  'most  as  me  5 
So,  as  7  say,  I'  been  so 
Special  lonesome-like  and  blue, 
With  Elviry,  like  she's  been, 
'Way  so  much,  last  two  or  three 
Year' — But  now  she's  home  ag'in — 
Home  ag'in  with  me ! 

278 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Driv  in  fer  her  yisterday, 

Me  and  Jonas — gay  and  spry, — 

We  jes*  cut  up,  all  the  way! — 

Yes,  and  sung ! — tel,  blame  it !  I 

Keyed  my  voice  up  'bout  as  high 

As  when — days  'at  I  wuz  young — 

"Buckwheat-notes"  wuz  all  they  sung. 

Jonas  bantered  me,  and  'greed 

To  sing  one  'at  town-folks  sing 

Down  at  Split  Stump  'er  High-Low — 

Some  new  "ballet,"  said  he,  'at  he'd 

Learnt — about  "The  Grape-vine  Swing." 

And  when  he  quit,  /  begun 

To  chune  up  my  voice  and  run 

Through    the   what's-called    "scales"    and    "dc 

Sol-me-fa's"  I  ust  to  know — 

Then  let  loose  old  favorite  one, 

"Hunters  o'  Kentucky!"    My! 

Tel  I  thought  the  boy  would  die! 

And  we  both  laughed — Yes,  and  still 

Heerd  more  laughin',  top  the  hill ; 

Fer  we'd  missed  Elviry's  train, 

And  she'd  lit  out  'crost  the  fields, — 

Dewdrops  dancin'  at  her  heels, 

And  cut  up  old  Smoots's  lane 

So's  to  meet  us.    And  there  in 

Shadder  o'  the  chinkypin, 

With  a  danglin'  dogwood-bough 

Bloomin'  'bove  her — See  her  now  ! — 

Sunshine  sort  o'  flickerin'  down 

And  a  kind  o'  laughin'  all 

Round  her  new  red  parasol, 


279 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Tryin'  to  git  at  her!— well— like 
/  jumped  out  and  showed  'em  how— * 
Yes,  and  jes'  the  place  to  strike 
That-air  mouth  o'  hern — as  sweet 
As  the  blossoms  breshed  her  brow 
Er  sweet-williams  round  her  feet — 
White  and  blushy,  too,  as  she 
"Howdied"  up  to  Jonas,  and 
Jieuked  her  head,  and  waved  her  hand. 
"Hey !"  says  I,  as  she  bounced  in 
The  spring-wagon,  reachin'  back 
To  give  me  a  lift,  "whoop-ee!" 
I-says-ee,  "you're  home  ag'in — 
Home  ag'in  with  me!" 

Lord !  how  wild  she  wuz,  and  glad, 
Gittin'  home!— and  things  she  had 
To  inquire  about,  and  talk — 
Plowin',  plantin',  and  the  stock — 
News  o'  neighberhood ;  and  how 
Wuz  the  Deem-girls  doin'  now, 
Sence  that-air  young  chicken-hawk 
They  was  "tamin' "  soared  away 
With  their  settin'-hen,  one  day?— 
(Said  she'd  got  Mame's  postal-card 
'Bout  it,  very  day  'at  she 
Started  home  from  Bethany.) 
How  wuz  produce— eggs,  and  lard  ?— 
Er  wuz  stores  still  claimin'  "hard 
Times,"  as  usual?    And,  says  she, 
Trotibled-like,  "How's  Deedie— say? 
Sence  pore  child  e-loped  away 

280 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  got  back,  and  goin'  to  'ply 
Per  school-license  by  and  by  — 
And  where's  'Lijy  workin'  at? 
And  how's  'Aunt'  and  'Uncle  Jake'  ? 
How  wuz  'Old  Maje'  —  and  the  cat? 
And  wuz  Marthy's  baby  fat 
As  his  'Humpty-Dumpty'  ma? 
Sweetest  thing  she  ever  saw  !  — 
Must  run  'crost  and  see  her,  too, 
Soon  as  she  turned  in  and  got 
Supper  fer  us  —  smokin'-hot  — 
And  the  'dishes'  all  wuz  through.  —  " 
Sich  a  supper  !   W'y,  I  set 
There  and  et,  and  et,  and  et  !  — 
Jes'  et  on,  tel  Jonas  he 
Pushed  his  chair  back,  laughed,  and  says, 
"I  could  walk  his  log!"  and  we 
All  laughed  then,  tel  'Viry  she 
Lit  the  lamp  —  and  I  give  in  !— 
Riz  and  kissed  her  :     "Heaven  bless 
You  !"  says  I  —  -"you're  home  ag'in  — 
Same  old  dimple  in  your  chin, 
Same  white  apern,"  I-says-ee, 
"Same  sweet  girl,  and  good  to  see 
As  your  mother  ust  to  be,  — 
And  F  got  you  home  ag'in  — 
Home  ag'in  with  me  !" 

I  turns  then  to  go  on  by  her 
Through  the  door  —  and  see  her  eyes 
Both  wuz  swimmin',  and  she  tries 


281 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

To  say  somepin' — can't — and  so 

Grabs  and  hugs  and  lets  me  go. 

Noticed  Aunty'd  made  a  fire 

In  the  settin'-room  and  gone 

Back  where  her  p'serves  wuz  on 

Bilin'  in  the  kitchen.    I 

Went  out  on  the  porch  and  set, 

Thinkin'-like.     And  by  and  by 

Heerd  Elviry,  soft  and  low, 

At  the  organ,  kind  o'  go 

A  mi-anderin'  up  and  down 

With  her  fingers  'mongst  the  keys — 

"Vacant  Chair"  and  "Old  Camp-Groun'." 

Dusk  was  moist-like,  with  a  breeze 

Lazin'  round  the  locus'-trees — 

Heerd  the  bosses  champin',  and 

Jonas  feedin',  and  the  hogs — 

Yes,  and  katydids  and  frogs — 

And  a  tree-toad,  somers.    Heerd 

Also  whipper wills. — My  land! — 

All  so  mournful  ever'where — 

Them  out  here,  and  her  in  there, — 

'Most  like  'tendin'  services! 

Anyway,  I  must  'a'  jes 

Kind  o'  drapped  asleep,  I  guess; 

'Cause  when  Jonas  must  'a'  passed 

Me,  a-comin'  in,  I  knowed 

Nothin'  of  it — yit  it  seemed 

Sort  o'  like  I  kind  o'  dreamed 

'Bout  him,  too,  a-slippin'  in, 

And  a-watchin'  back  to  see 

Ef  I  ivuz  asleep,  and  then 

282 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Passin'  in  where  'Viry  wuz  ; 
And  where  I  declare  it  does 
Tear  to  me  I  heerd  him  say, 
Wild  and  glad  and  whisperin' — 
'Peared-like  heerd  him  say,  says-ee, 
"Ah  !     I  got  you  home  ag'in— 
Home  ag'in  with  me !" 


152  To  "Uncle  Remus" 

WE  love  your  dear  old  face  and  voice — 
We're  all  Miss  Sally's  Little  Boys, 
Climbin'  your  knee, 
In  ecstasy, 

Rejoicin'  in  your  Creeturs*  joys 
And  trickery. 

The  Lord  who  made  the  day  and  night, 
He  made  the  Black  man  and  the  White; 

So,  in  like  view, 

We  hold  it  true 
That  He  hain't  got  no  favorite — 

Onless  it's  you. 


j        A  Feel  in  the  Chris' mas- Air 

T KEY'S  a  kind  o'  feel  in  the  air,  to  me, 
When  the  Chris'mas-times  sets  in, 
That's  about  as  much  of  a  mystery 
As  ever  I've  run  ag'in' ! — 

283 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Per  instunce,  now,  whilse  I  gain  in  weight 

And  gineral  health,  I  swear 
They's  a  goneness  somers  I  can't  quite  state  —  • 

A  kind  o'  feel  in  the  air. 

They's  a  feel  in  the  Chris'mas-air  goes  right 

To  the  spot  where  a  man  lives  at!  — 
It  gives  a  feller  a'  appetite  — 

They  ain't  no  doubt  about  that!  — 
And  yit  they's  somepin'  —  I  don't  know  what  — 

That  follers  me,  here  and  there, 
And  ha'nts  and  worries  and  spares  me  not— 

A  kind  o'  feel  in  the  air  ! 

They's  a  feel,  as  I  say,  in  the  air  that's  jest 

As  blame-don  sad  as  sweet!  — 
In  the  same  ra-sho  as  I  feel  the  best 

And  am  spryest  on  my  feet, 
They's  allus  a  kind  o'  sort  of  a'  ache 

That  I  can't  lo-cate  no-where;  — 
But  it  comes  with  Chris'  mas,  and  no  mistake  !  — 

A  kind  o'  feel  in  the  air. 

—•ifoovhl  on  Jo»  J'mfirl  >H  IfuiT 
Is  it  the  racket  the  childern  raise?  — 

W'y,  no!  —  God  bless  'em!  —  no!  — 
Is  it  the  eyes  and  the  cheeks  ablaze  — 

Like  my  own  wuz,  long  ago?  — 
Is  it  the  bleat  o'  the  whistle  and  beat 

O'  the  little  toy-drum  and  blare 
O'  the  horn?  —  No!  no!  —  it  is  jest  the  sweet— 

The  sad-sweet  feel  in  the  air. 


284 


THE   HOOS1ER   BOOK 


154  Cassander 


"/CASSANDER!    0    Cassander  !"—  her  mother's  voice 

\~J  seems  cle'r 
As  ever,  from  the  old  back-porch,  a-hollerin'  fer  her— 

specially  in  airly  Spring  —  like  May,  two  year'  ago  — 
Last  time  she  hollered  fer  her,  —  and  Cassander  didn't  hear  1 

^ob-^riH.'t  'o  iio.-»  B  rlJiv/  ,tjd  j=Bqe  no  bs^Ij^na  I  aelHY/ 
Cassander  wuz  so  chirpy-like  and  sociable  and  free, 
And  good  to  ever  'body,  and  wuz  even  good  to  me 

Though  I  wuz  jes'  a  common  —  well,  a  farm-hand,  don't 

you  know, 

A-workin'  on  her  father's  place,  as  pore  as  pore  could  be! 
j£fr//  str/,'  ^gn?^  }j;a~-.T>n  i9i  bv{,D\i  b  I  3?no^  beri  b'l  u^J. 
Her  bein'  jes'  a'  only  child,  Cassander  had  her  way 
A  good-'eal  more'n  other  girls;  and  neighbers  ust  to  say 

She  looked  most  like  her  Mother,  but  wuz  turned  most 

like  her  Pap,  — 
Except  he  had  no  use  fer  /own-folks  then  —  ner  yit  to-day! 

I  can't  claim  she  incouraged  me:     She'd  let  me  drive  her  in 
To   town   sometimes,   on    Saturd'ys,   and    fetch   her   home 

ag'in, 
Tel  onc't  she   'scused   "Old   Moll"   and   me,  —  and   some 

blame'  city-chap, 
He  driv  her  home,  two-forty  style,  in  face  o'  kith  and  kin. 


She  even  tried  to  make  him  stay  fer  supper,  but  I  'low 
He  must  'a'  kind  o'  'spicioned  some  objections.  —  Anyhow, 

7OW    YlSfl—  137'?,flfi    Y'tK 
285 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Her  mother  callin'  at  her,  whilse  her  father  stood  and 

shook 
His    fist, — the   town-chap    turnt   his    team    and    made    his 

partin*  bow. 
vsio's  ?.V»i\u>j«  ioff — Tib6njB?.2fiD    0    '<:    '     ' 

"Cassander!     You,  Cassander!" — hear  her  mother  jes'  as 

plain, 
And  see  Cassander  blushin'  like  the  peach-tree  down  the 

lane, 
Whilse  I  sneaked  on  apast  her,  with  a  sort  o'  hang-dog 

look, 

A-feelin'  cheap  as  sorghum  and  as  green  as  sugar-cane ! 
•„,.-!,  .!,,,«!-<™.i  K  .Ib^nommo,  ,:  "^  ,«•« 
(You  see,  I'd  skooted  when  she  met  her  town-beau — when, 

in  fact, 
Ef  I'd  had  sense  I'd  stayed  fer  her. — But  sense  wuz  what 

I  lacked ! 

So  I'd  cut  home  ahead  o'  her,  so's  I  could  tell  'em  what 
Wuz  keepin'  her.     And — you  know  how  a  jealous  fool'll 
act!) 


I  past  her,  I  wuz  sa}rin', — but  she  never  turnt  her  head  ; 
I  swallered-like  and  cle'red  my  th'oat — but  that  wuz  all 

I  said; 
And  whilse  I  hoped  fer  some  word  back,  it  wuzn't  what 

I  got.— 
That  girl'll  not  stay  stiller  on  the  day  she's  layin'  dead ! 

Well,  that-air  silence  lasted! — Ust  to  listen  ever'  day 
I'd  be  at  work  and  hear  her  mother  callin'  thataway ; 

I'd  sight  Cassander,  mayby,  cuttin'  home  acrost  the  blue 
And  drizzly  fields;  but  nary  answer — nary  word  to  say! 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Putt  in  about  two  weeks  o'  that  —  two  weeks  o'  rain  and 

mud, 

Er  mostly  so  :   I  couldn't  plow.    The  old  crick  like  a  flood  : 
And,   lonesome   as   a   borried   dog,    I'd   wade  them   old 

woods  through  — 
The  dogwood  blossoms  white  as  snow,  and  redbuds  red 

as  blood. 
/inUiv.  'y<''.''«i\i  vVvJuciSf't  \K;oys  I'ujsUun  ii>   juvA\  tvA 

Lnst  time  her  mother  called  her  —  sich  a  morning  like  as 

now  : 
The  robins   and  the  bluebirds,   and  the  blossoms  on  the 

bough  — 
And  this  wuz  yit  'fore  brekfust,  with  the  sun  out  at 

his  best, 
And  bosses  kickin*  in  the  barn—  and  dry  enough  to  plow. 

JiKitpz   bub  >toi?T  bnu"  •  •!  -ffittf»1&*r  fetffH   ,}rlgfl   noY 
"Cassander  !   O  Cassander  1"    .   .   .   And  her  only  answer— 

What?— 
A  letter,  twisted  round  the  cookstove  damper,  smokin'-hot, 

A-statin':    "I  wuz  married  on  that  day  of  all  the  rest, 
The  day  my  husband  fetched  me  home  —  ef  you  ain't  all 
f  ergot  !" 

"Cassander!    O  Cassander!"  seems,  allus,  'long  in  May, 
I  hear  her  mother  callin'  her  —  a-callin',  night  and  day  — 

"Cassander  !   O  Cassander  !"  allus  callin',  as  I  say, 
"Cassander!    O  Cassander!"  jes'  a-callin'  thataway. 


vrrj  ..iihow  n 
287 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

bne  nlfit  V'g>te»v/  owl*—  tafl*  *di"grf»3W  o?/J  foods  Tit  tte 
-?55  Ow  Queer  Old  World 

':  booft  K  9>fit  ibho  bio  3f!T    ,-y/ol<i  f  nblwoy  I    :  "oa  't^m  i 
Per  them  'at's  here  in  airliest  infant  stages, 

It's  a  hard  world: 
Per  them  'at  gits  the  knocks  of  boyhood's  ages, 

It's  a  mean  world: 
Per  them  'at  nothin's  good  enough  they're  gittin', 

It's  a  bad  world: 
Per  them  'at  learns  at  last  what's  right  and  fitting 

It's  a  good  world. 

—  THE  HIRED  MAN. 


is  }uo  ituz  SfJ  rjv/   ,iHtra;i     9io      Jr/  suw   ?.n;3    >n 

IT'S  a  purty  hard  world  you  find,  my  child  — 
It's  a  purty  hard  world  you  find! 
You   fight,    little   rascal!    and  kick   and   squall, 
And  snort  out  medicine,   spoon  and  all! 

When  you're  here  longer  you'll  change  yer  mind 
And  simmer  down  sort  o'  half-rickonciled. 
But  now—  Jee!- 
Jlfy/-mun-neel 
It's  a  purty  hard  world,  my  child! 

It's  a  purty  mean  world  you're  in,  my  lad- 

It's  a  purty  mean  world  you're  in! 
We  know,  of  course,  in  your  schoolboy-days 
It's  a  world  of  too  many  troublesome  ways 

.  •  1  1  17,  i  -  •>          •  •  .   '.  •  '  i  i-  •-.  -  i     -'  .^  ' 

Of  tryin'  things  over  and  startin'  ag'in,  — 
Yit  your  chance  beats  what  your  parents  had. 
But  now—  Oh  ! 
Fire-and-tow  ! 

Tt's  a  purty  mean  world,  my  lad! 
288 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

It's  a  purty  bad  world  you've  struck,  young  chap — 

It's  a  purty  bad  world  you've  struck — 
But  study  the  cards  that  you  hold,  you  know, 
And  your  hopes  will  sprout  and  your  mustache  grow, 
And  your  store-clothes  likely  will  change  your  luck, 
And  you'll  rake  a  rich  ladybird  into  yer  lap ! 
But  now — Doubt 
All  things  out— 
It's  a  Durty  bad  world,  young  chap ! 

.yiiirf  j  o'rl*  b£o-t  im  sbem  "art;?  nor!)  bfiA 
It's  a  purty  good  world  this  is,  old  man — 

It's  a  purty  good  world  this  is ! 
For  all  its  follies  and  shows  and  lies — 
It's  rainy  weather,  and  cheeks  likewise, 

And  age,  hard-hearin'  and  rheumatiz.— 
We're  not  a-faultin'  the  Lord's  own  plan- 
All  things  jest 
At  their  best— 
It's  a  purty  good  world,  old  man! 


156  The  Rhymes  of  Ironquill 


I 


TO  EUo'ENE   F.   WARE 

'VE  allus  held— till  jest  of  late— 

That  Poetry  and  me 
Got  on  best,  not  to  'sociate — 

That  is,  most  poetry; 
But  t'other  day  my  son-in-law, 

Milt — be'n  in  town  to  mill — 
Fetched  home  a  present-like,  fer  Ma, — 
The  Rhymes  of  Ironquill. 
289 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Milt  ust  to  teach  ;  and,  'course,  his  views 

Ranks  over  common  sense; — 
That's  biased  me,  till  I  refuse 

'Most  all  he  rickommends. — 
But  Ma  she  read  and  read  along 

And  cried,  like  women  will, 
About  that  "Washerwoman's  Song" 

In  Rhymes  of  Ironquill. 

And  then  she  made  me  read  the  thing, 

And  found  my  specs  and  all : 
And  I  jest  leant  back  there — i  jing — 

My  cheer  ag'inst  the  wall — 
And  read  and  read,  and  read  and  read, 

All  to  myse'f — ontil 
I  lit  the  lamp  and  went  to  bed 

With  Rhymes  of  Ironquill! 

I  propped  myse'f  up  there,  and — durn! — • 

I  never  shet  an  eye 
Till  daylight ! — hogged  the  whole  concern 

Tee-total,  mighty  nigh  ! — 
I'd  sigh  sometimes,  and  cry  sometimes, 

Er  laugh  jest  fit  to  kill — 
Clean  captured-like.  with  them-air  rhymes 

O'  that-air  Ironquill! 

Read  that-un  'bout  old  "Marmaton" 

'At  hain't  be'n  ever  "sized" 
In  Song  before — and  yit's  rolled  on 

Jest  same  as  'postrophized ! — 


writ 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Putt  me  in  mind  o'  our  old  crick 

At  Freeport — and  the  mill — 
And  Hinchman's  Ford — till  jest  homesick — 

Them  Rhymes  of   Ironquill! 

Read  that-un,  too,  'bout  "Game  o'  Whist," 

And  likenin'  Life  to  fun 
Like  that — and  playin*  out  yer  fist, 

However  cards  is  run : 
And  them  "Tobacker-Stemmers*  Song" 

They  sung  with  sich  a  will 
Down  'mongst  the  misery  and  wrong — • 

In  Rhymes  of  Ironquill. 

And  old  John  Brown,  who  broke  the  sod 

Of  Freedom's  faller  field 
And  sowed  his  heart  there,  thankin'  God 

Pore  slaves  would  git  the  yield — • 
Rained  his  last  tears  fer  them  and  MS 

To  irrigate  and  till 
A  crop  of  Song  as  glorious 

As  Rhymes  of  Ironquill. 

And — sergeant,  died  there  in  the  War, 

'At  talked,  out  of  his  head    .    .    . 
He  went  "back  to  the  Violet  Star," 

I'll  bet— jest  like  he  said!— 
Yer  Wars  kin  riddle  bone  and  flesh, 

And  blow  out  brains,  and  spill 
Life-blood, — but  Somepin'  lives   on,    fresh 

As  Rhymes  of  Ironquill. 


291 


THE   IIOOS1ER   BOOK 

<uo  V>  hnirn  HI  °»n  itu'7 

757  The  Smitten  Purist 

AND   THE  CHARMING   MISS   SMITHES   EFFECT  UPON    HIM 

HPHWEET  Poethy !  let  me  lithp  forthwith, 
JL    That  I  may  thhing  of  the  name  of  Smith- - 

Which  name,  alath ! 

In  Harmony  hath 

No  adequate  rhyme,  letht  you  grant  me  thith, — 
That  the  thimple  thibillant  thound  of  cth— 
(Which  to  thave  my  thoul,  I  can  not  expreth!) 

Thuth  I  may  thhingingly, 

Wooingly  and  winningly 
Thu — thu — thound  in  the  name  of  Smith. 

0  give  me  a  name  that  will  rhyme  with  Smith, — 
For  wild  and  weird  ath  the  sthrange  name  ith, 

I  would  sthrangle  a  sthrain 
And  a  thad  refrain 
Faint  and  sthweet  ath  a  whithpered  kissth ; 

1  would  thhing  thome  thong  for  the  mythtic  mitth 
Who  beareth  the  thingular  name  of  Smith — 

The  dathzlingly  brilli-ant, 
Rarely  rethilliant 

_  T  ;,  ,  If tOy/    5  !  i. 

Ap — pup — pellation  of  Smith! 

O  had  I  a  name  that  would  rhyme  with  Smith- 
Thome  rhythmical  tincture  of  rethonant  blith — 

Thome  melody  rare 

Ath  the  cherubth  blare 


292 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

On  them  little  trumpeths  they're  foolin*  with-— 
1  would  tint  me  down,  and  I'd  thhing  like  thith 
Of  the  girl  of  the  thingular  name  of  Smith — 

The  sthrangely  curiouth, 

Rich  and  luxuriouth 
Pup — patronymic  of  Smith  ! 

!  .>§riiw.*i\-j\i^»  art} -fio 
•irniilj     um;}  firil  bnc  ecfinurfi  J'niA 


158  An  Idiot 


I'M  on'y  thist  a'  idiot— 
That's  what  folks  calls  a  feller  what 
Ain't  got  no  mind 

Of  any  kind, 

Ner  don't  know  nothin'  he's  forgot.  — 
I'm  one  o'  them  —  But  I  know  why 
The  bees  buzz  this  way  when  they  fly,  —  • 
'Cause  honey  it  gits  on  their  wings. 
Ain't  thumbs  and  fingers  funny  things  ? 

What's  money?    Hooh!  it's  thist  a  hole 
Punched  in  a  round  thing  'at  won't  roll 
'Cause  they's  a  string 

Poked  through  the  thing 
And  fastened  round  your  neck  —  that's  all! 
Ef  I  could  git  my  money  off, 
I'd  buy  whole  lots  o'  whoopin'-cough 
And  give  it  to  the  boy  next  door 
Who  died  'cause  he  ain't  got  no  more. 

293 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

What  is  it  when  you  die?    /  know, — 
You  can't  wake  up  ag'in,  ner  go 
To  sleep  no  more — 

Ner  kick,  ner  snore, 
Ner  lay  and  look  and  watch  it  snow; 

And  when  folks  slaps  and  pinches  you — 
You  don't  keer  nothin'  what  they  do. 
No  honey  on  the  angels'  wings ! 
Ain't  thumbs  and  fingers  funny  things? 


/5P     The  Hired  Man's  Faith  in  Chil 
dren 

r  i,  ;-IUo  ?-Jio't  tedv/:  &r.f\T      1 

I    BELIEVE  all  childern's  good, 
Ef  they're  only  understood, — • 
Even  bad  ones,  'pears  to  me, 
'S  jes'  as  good  as  they  kin  be! 


160        "Them  Old  Cheery  Words" 

•I  R  fcrrfl  ?/H  IrfooH     *Y-mo.'<i  z'ti;!*'// 

PAP  he  allus  ust  to  say, 
"Chris'mus  comes  but  onc't  a  year !' 
Liked  to  hear  him  thataway, 

In  his  old  split-bottomed  cheer 
By  the  fireplace  here  at  night — 
Wood  all  in, — and  room  all  bright, 
Warm  and  snug,  and  folks  all  here: 
"Chris'mus  comes  but  onc't  a  year!" 
294 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Me  and  'Lize,  and  Warr'n  and  Jess 

And  Eldory  home  fer  two 
Weeks'  vacation ;  and,  I  guess, 

Old  folks  tickled  through  and  through, 
Same  as  we  was, — "Home  onc't  more 
Fer  another  Chris'mus — shore  !" 
Pap  'ud  say,  and  tilt  his  cheer, — 
"Chris'mus  comes  but  onc't  a  year !" 

Ilij''    J92    "1"3    '  Ti>bi'->    I'TKii   *O 

Mostly  Pap  was  ap*  to  be 

Ser'ous  in  his  "daily  walk," 
As  he  called  it;  giner'ly 

Was  no  hand  to  joke  er  talk. 
Fac's  is,  Pap  had  never  be'n 
Rugged-like  at  all — and  then 
Three  years  in  the  army  had 
He'pped  to  break  him  purty  bad. 

.oh  o)  Jrhjh  £  9-/UOY  zn  ,08 
Never  flinched!  but  frost  and  snow 

Hurt  his  wownd  in  winter.    But 
You  bet  Mother  knowed  it,  though ! — 

Watched  his  feet  and  made  him  putt 
On  his  flannen;  and  his  knee, 
Where  it  never  healed  up,  he 
Claimed  was   "well  now — mighty  near — 
Chris'mus  comes  but  onc't  a  year !" 

os.  ot  bn'I  mrlJ— aw  \<>  II A 
"Chris'mus  comes  but  onc't  a  year !" 

Pap  'ud  say,  and  snap  his  eyes.    .  .witi'.J' 
Row  o'  apples  sputter'n'  here 

Round  the  hearth,  and  me  and  'Lize 


2Q5 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Crackin'  hicker'-nuts ;  and  Warr'n 
And  Eldory  parchin'  corn ; 
And  whole  raft  o'  young  folks  here. 
"Chris'mus  comes  but  onc't  a  year !" 

Mother  tuk  most  comfort  in 

Jes'  a-he'ppin'  Pap :    She'd  fill 
His  pipe  fer  him,  er  his  tin 
O'  hard  cider;  er  set  still 
And  read  fer  him  out  the  pile 
O'  newspapers  putt  on  file 
Whilse  he  was  with  Sherman — (She 
Knowed  the  whole  war-history!) 

Sometimes  he'd  git  het  up  some.— 

"Boys,"  he'd  say,  "and  you  girls,  too, 
Chris'mus  is  about  to  come ; 

So,  as  you've  a  right  to  do, 
Celebrate  it !     Lots  has  died, 
Same  as  Him  they  crucified, 
That  you  might  be  happy  here. 
Chris'mus  comes  but  onc't  a  year!" 

;T  r;t9j»H5l  fcirf  fcrri;  •  nwrnsfi  ,-iiF  rtO 
Missed  his  voice  last  Chris'mus — missed 

Them  old  cheery  words,  you  know. 
Mother  belt  up  tel  she  kissed 

All  of  us — then  had  to  go 
And  break  down  !    And  I  laughs  :   "Here ! 
'Chris'mus  comes  but  onc't  a  year!'" 
"Them's  his  very  words,"  sobbed  she, 
"When  he  asked  to  marry  me." 

296 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

"Chris'mus  comes  but  onc't*  a  year !" — 
"Chris'mus  comes  but  onc't  a  year !" 
Over,  over,  still  I  hear, 

"Chris'mus  comes  but  onc't  a  year !" 
Yit,  like  him,  I'm  goin*  to  smile 
And  keep  cheerful  all  the  while : 
Allus  Chris'mus  There — And  here 
"Chris'mus  comes  but  onc't  a  year !" 


ir 
bodoVl 


297 


HIS  PA'S  ROMANCE 


161  His  Pa's  Romance 


rtMirl'J" 


A^L  'at  I  ever  want  to  be 
Is  ist  to  be  a  man  like  Pa 
When  he  wuz  young  an'  married  Ma  1 
Uncle  he  telled  us  yisterdy 
Ist  all  about  it  then — 'cause  they, 
My  Pa  an'  Ma,  wuz  bofe  away 
To  'tend  P'tracted  Meetin',  where 
My  Pa  an*  Ma  is  allus  there 
When  all  the  big  "Revivals"  is, 
An'  "Love-Feasts,"  too,  an'  "Class,"  an'  "Prayer.5 
An'  when's  "Comoonian  Servicis." 
An',  yes,  an*  Uncle  said  to  not 
To  never  tell  them  nor  let  on 
Like  we  knowed  now  ist  how  they  got 
First  married.    So — while  they  wuz  gone — 
Uncle  he  telled  us  ever'thing — 
'Bout  how  my  Pa  wuz  ist  a  pore 
Farm-boy. — He  says,  I  tell  you  what, 
Your  Pa  ivuz  pore !     But  neighbers  they 
All  liked  him — all  but  one  old  man 
An*  his.  old  wife  that  folks  all  say 
Nobody  liked,  ner  never  can! 


298 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Yes,  sir !  an'  Uncle  purt'  nigh  swore 

About  the  mean  old  man  an'  way 

He  treat'  my  Pa ! — 'cause  he's  a  pore 

Farm-hand — but  prouder  'an  a  king — 

An'  ist  work'  on,  he  did,  an*  wore 

His  old  patched  clo'es,  ist  anyway, 

So  he  saved  up  his  wages — then 

He  ist  worked  on  an'  saved  some  more, 

An'  ist  worked  on,  ist  night  an'  day — 

Till,  sir,  he  save'  up  nine  er  ten 

Er  hunnerd  dollars  I    But  he  keep 

All  still  about  it,  Uncle  say — 

But  he  ist  thinks — an'  thinks  a  heap  1 

Though  what  he  wuz  a-thinkin',  Pa 

He  never  tell'  a  soul  but  Ma — 

(Then,  course,  you  know,  he  wuzn't  Pa, 

An',  course,  you  know,  she  wuzn't  Ma — 

They  wuz  ist  sweethearts,  course  you  know)  ; 

'Cause  Ma  wuz  ist  a  girl,  about 

Sixteen ;  an*  when  my  Pa  he  go 

A-courtin'  her,  her  Pa  an'  Ma — 

The  very  first  they  find  it  out — • 

Wuz  maddest  folks  you  ever  saw ! 

'Cause  it  wuz  her  old  Ma  an'  Pa 

'At  hate  my  Pa,  an'  toss  their  head, 

An'  ist  raise  Ned !    An'  her  Pa  said 

He'd  ruther  see  his  daughter  dead ! 

An'  said  she's  ist  a  child! — an'  so 

Wuz  Pa ! — An*  ef  he  wuz  man-grown 

An*  only  man  on  earth  below, 

His  daughter  shouldn't  marry  him 

Ef  he's  a  king  an'  on  his  throne  1 

299 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

Pa's  chances  then  looked  mighty  slim 

Per  certain,  Uncle  said.    But  he  — 

He  never  told  a  soul  but  her 

What  he  wuz  keepin'  quiet  fer. 

Her  folks  ist  lived  a  mile  from  where 

He  lived  at  —  an'  they  drove  past  there 

To  git  to  town.    An'  ever'  one 

An'  all  the  neighbers  they  liked  her 

An'  showed  it  !    But  her  folks  —  no,  sir  !  — 

Nobody  liked  her  parunts  none  ! 

An'  so  when  they  shet  down,  you  know, 

On  Pa  —  an'  old  man  tell'  him  so— 

Pa  ist  went  back  to  work,  an'  she 

Ist  waited.    An',  sir  !  purty  soon 

Her  folks  they  thought  he's  turned  his  eye 

Seme  other  way  —  'cause  by-an'-by 

They  heard  he'd  rented  the  old  place 

He  worked  on.    An'  one  afternoon 

A  neighber,  that  had  bu'st'  a  trace, 

He  tell'  the  old  man  they  wuz  signs 

Around  the  old  place  that  the  young 

Man  wuz  a-fixin'  up  the  old 

Log  cabin  some,  an'  he  had  brung 

New  f  urnichur  from  town  ;  an'  told 

How  th'  old  house  'uz  whitewashed  clean 

An*  sweet  —  wiv  mornin'-glory  vines 

An'  hollyhawks  all  'round  the  door 

An'  winders  —  an'  a  bran'-new  floor 

In  th'  old  porch  —  an'  wite-new  green- 

An'-red  pump  in  the  old  sweep-well! 

An',  Uncle  said,  when  he  hear  tell 


300 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

O'  all  them  things,  the  old  man  he 
1st  grin'  an'  says,  he  "reckon'  now 
Some  gal,  er  widder  anyhow, 
That  silly  boy  he's  coaxed  at  last 
To  marry  him !"  he  says,  says-ee, 
"An'  ef  he  has,  'so  mote  it  be' !" 
Then  went  back  to  the  house  to  tell 
His  wife  the  news,  as  he  went  past 
The  smokehouse,  an*  then  went  on  in 
The  kitchen,  where  his  daughter  she 
Wuz  washin',  to  tell  her,  an'  grin 
An'  try  to  worry  her  a  spell ! 
The  mean  old  thing !    But  Uncle  said 
She  ain't  cry  much — ist  pull  her  old 
Sunbonnet  forrerds  on  her  head — 
So's  old  man  he  can't  see  her  face 
At  all !    An'  when  he  s'pose  he  scold' 
An'  jaw  enough,  he  ist  clear'  out 
An'  think  he's  boss  of  all  the  place ! 

"lire*  sill  ni  j£-*a  qot  t»v  ?riT 
Then  Uncle  say,  the  first  you  know 
They's  go'  to  be  a  Circus-show 
In  town  !  an'  old  man  think  he'll  take 
His  wife  an'  go.    An'  when  she  say 
To  take  their  daughter,  too,  she  shake 
Her  head  like  she  don't  want  to  go ; 
An'  when  he  sees  she  wants  to  stay, 
The  old  man  takes  her,  anyway ! 
An'  so  she  went !    But  Uncle  he 
Said  she  looked  mighty  sweet  that  day, 
Though  she  wuz  pale  as  she  could  be, 


301 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

A-speshully  a-drivin'  by 

Wite  where  her  beau  lived  at,  you  know; 

But  out  the  corner  of  his  eye 

The  old  man  watch*  her ;  but  she  throw 

Her  pairsol  'round  so  she  can't  see 

The  house  at  all !    An'  then  she  hear 

Her  Pa  an'  Ma  a-talkin'  low 

And  kind  o*  laughin'-like ;  but  she 

1st  set  there  in  the  seat  behind, 

P'tendin'  like  she  didn't  mind. 

An',  Uncle  say,  when  they  got  past 

The  young  man's  place,  an'  'pearantly 

He  wuzn't  home,  but  off  an'  gone 

To  town,  the  old  man  turned  at  last 

An*  talked  back  to  his  daughter  there, 

All  pleasant-like,  from  then  clean  on 

Till  they  got  into  town,  an'  where 

The  Circus  wuz,  an'  on  inside 

O'  that,  an'  through  the  crowd,  on  to 

The  very  top  seat  in  the  tent 

Wite  next  the  band — a-bangin'  through 

A  tune  'at  bu'st  his  yeers  in  two ! 

An'  there  the  old  man  scrouged  an'  tried 

To  make  his  wife  set  down,  an*  she 

A-yellin' !    But  ist  what  she  meant 

He  couldn't  hear,  ner  couldn't  see 

Till  she  turned  'round  an'  pinted.    Then 

He  turned  an'  looked — an'  looked  again ! 

He  ist  saw  neighbers  ever'where — 

But,  sir,  his  daughter  wuzn't  there  I 


302 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An',  Uncle  says,  he  even  saw 

Her  beau,  you  know,  he  hated  so ; 

An'  he  wuz  with  some  other  girl. 

An'  then  he  heard  the  Clown  "Haw-haw  1" 

An'  saw  the  horses  wheel  an'  whirf 

Around  the  ring,  an'  heard  the  zipp 

O'  the  Ringmaster's  long  slim  whip — • 

But  that  whole  Circus,  Uncle  said, 

Wuz  all  inside  the  old  man's  head ! 

An'  Uncle  said,  he  didn't  find 

His  daughter  all  that  afternoon — 

An'  her  Ma  says  she'll  lose  her  mind 

Kf  they  don't  find  her  purty  soon ! 

But,  though  they  looked  all  day,  an'  stayed 

There  fer  the  night  p'formance — not 

No  use  at  all ! — they  never  laid 

Their  eyes  on  her.    An'  then  they  got 

Their  team  out,  an'  the  old  man  shook 

His  fist  at  all  the  town,  an*  then 

Shook  it  up  at  the  moon  ag'in, 

An*  said  his  time  'ud  come,  some  day! 

An*  jerked  the  lines  an*  driv  away« 

Uncle,  he  said,  he  'spect,  that  night. 
The  old  man's  madder  yet  when  they 
Drive  past  the  young  man's  place,  an'  hear 
A  fiddle  there,  an'  see  a  light 
Inside,  an*  shadders  light  an'  gay 
A-dancin'  'crost  the  winder-blinds. 
An'  some  young  chaps  outside  yelled,  "Say! 
What  'pears  to  be  the  hurry — hey?" 


303 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

But  the  old  man  ist  whipped  the  lines 
An*  streaked  past  like  a  runaway ! 
An'  now  you'll  be  su'prised,  I  bet ! — 
I  hardly  ain't  quit  laughin'  yet 
When  Uncle  say,  that  jamboree 
An'  dance  an'  all — w'y,  that's  a  sign 
That  any  old  man  ort  to  see, 
As  plain  as  8  and  1  makes  9, 
That  they's  a  wcddin'  wite  inside 
That  very  house  he's  whippin'  so 
To  git  apast — an',  sir !  the  bride 
There's  his  own  daughter !    Yes,  an'  oh  ! 
She's  my  Ma  now — an*  young  man  she 
Got  married,  he's  my  Pa!     Whoop-eel 
But  Uncle  say  to  not  laugh  all 
The  laughin'  yet,  but  please  save  some 
To  kind  o'  spice  up  what's  to  come ! 

*U3  ^rfj  nodt  W.    /iofl  no  gov->  ibrfT 
Then  Uncle  say,  about  next  day 
The  neighbers  they  begin  to  call 
An'  wish  'em  well,  an'  say  how  glad 
An'  proud  an'  tickled  ever'  way 
Their  friends  all  is — an'  how  they  had 
The  lovin'  prayers  of  ever*  one 
That  had  homes  of  their  own !    But  none 
Said  nothin'  'bout  the  home  that  she 
Had  run  away  from!    So  she  sighed 
Sometimes — an'  wunst  she  purt*  nigh  cr. 

Well,  Uncle  say,  her  old  Pa,  he 
1st  like  to  died,  he  wuz  so  mad ! 
An'  her  Ma,  too!  But  by-an'-by 
They  cool  down  some. 

304 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

An*  'bout  a  week, 
She  want  to  see  her  Ma  so  bad, 
She  think  she'll  haf  to  go !    An'  so 
She  coax  him ;  an'  he  kiss  her  cheek 
An*  say,  Lord  bless  her,  course  they'll  go ! 
An',  Uncle  say,  when  they're  bofe  come 
A-knockin'  there  at  her  old  home — 
W'y,  first  he  know,  the  door  it  flew 
Open,  all  quick,  an'  she's  jerked  in, 
An',  quicker  still,  the  door's  banged  to 
An'  locked :  an'  crosst  the  winder-sill 
The  old  man  pokes  a  shotgun  through 
An'  says  to  git !    "You  stold  my  child," 
He  says ;  "an',  now  she's  back,  w'y,  you 
Clear  out,  this  minute,  er  I'll  kill 
You!    Yes,  an' I 'ull  kill  her,  too, 
Ef  you  don't  go  !"    An'  then,  all  wild, 
His  young  wife  begs  him  please  to  go ! 
An*  so  he  turn'  an'  walk' — all  slow 
An'  pale  as  death,  but  awful  still 
An'  ca'm— back  to  the  gate,  an'  on 
Into  the  road,  where  he  had  gone 
So  many  times  alone,  you  know ! 
An',  Uncle  say,  a  whipperwill 
Holler  so  lonesome,  as  he  go 
On  back  to'rds  home,  he  say  he  'spec* 
He  ist  'ud  like  to  wring  its  neck ! 
An'  I  ain't  think  he's  goin'  back 
All  by  hisse'f — but  Uncle  say 
That's  what  he  does,  an'  it's  a  f ac' ! 

An'  'pears-like  he's  gone  back  to  stay — 
'Cause  there  he  stick',  ist  thataway, 
305 


THE  HOOS1ER  BOOK 

An*  don't  go  nowheres  any  more, 
Ner  don't  nobody  ever  see 
Him  set  his  foot  outside  the  door — 
Till  'bout  five  days,  a  boy  loped  down 
The  road,  a-comin'  past  from  town, 
An'  he  called  to  him  from  the  gate, 
An'  sent  the  old  man  word :  He's  thought 
Things  over  now ;  an',  while  he  hate 
To  lose  his  wife,  he  think  she  ought 
To  mind  her  Pa  an'  Ma  an'  do 
Whatever  they  advise  her  to. 
An'  sends  word,  too,  to  come  an'  git 
Her  new  things  an'  the  furnichur 
That  he  had  special'  bought  fer  her — 
'Cause,  now  that  they  wuz  goin*  to  quit, 
She's  free  to  ist  have  all  of  it  ;— 
So,  fer  his  love  fer  her,  he  say 
To  come  an'  git  it,  wite  away. 
An'  spang !  that  very  afternoon, 
Here  come  her  Ma — ist  'bout  as  soon 
As  eld  man  could  hitch  up  an'  tell 
Her  "hurry  back !"    An'  'bout  as  quick 
As  she's  drove  there  to  where  my  Pa— 
I  mean  to  where  her  son-in-law — 
Lives  at,  he  meets  her  at  the  door 
All  smilin',  though  he's  awful  pale 
An'  trimbly — like  he's  ist  been  sick ; 
He  take  her  in  the  house — An',  'fore 
She  knows  it,  they's  a  cellar-door 
Shet  on  her,  an'  she  hears  the  click 
Of  a'  old  rusty  padlock!    Then, 
Uncle,  he  say,  she  kind  o'  stands 

306 


•     THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  thinks — an'  thinks — an'  thinks  ag'in — 

An'  mayby  thinks  of  her  own  child 

Locked  up — like  her !    An'  Uncle  smiled, 

An'  I  ist  laughed  an'  clapped  my  hands ! 

An'  there  she  stayed !    An'  she  can  cry 

Ist  all  she  want !  an'  yell  an'  kick 

To  ist  her  heart's  content!  an'  try 

To  pry  out  wiv  a  quiltin'-stick ! 

But  Uncle  say  he  guess  at  last 

She  'bout  give  up,  an'  holler*  through 

The  door-crack  fer  to  please  to  be 

So  kind  an'  good  as  send  an'  tell 

The  old  man,  like  she  want  him  to, 

To  come,  'fore  night,  an'  set  her  free, 

Er— they  wuz  rats  down  there !    An'  yell 

She  did,  till,  Uncle  say,  it  soured 

The  morning's  milk  in  the  back  yard ! 

But  all  the  answer  reached  her,  where 

She's  skeered  so  in  the  dark  down  there, 

Wuz  ist  a  mutterin'  that  she  heard — 

"I've  sent  him  word! — I've  sent  him  word!' 

An'  shore  enough,  as  Uncle  say, 

He  has  "sent  word !" 

Well,  it's  plum  night 
An'  all  the  house  is  shet  up  tight — 
Only  one  winder  'bout  half-way 
Raised  up,  you  know ;  an'  ain't  no  light 
Inside  the  whole  house,  Uncle  say. 
Then,  first  you  know,  there  where  the  team 


307 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK     . 

Stands  hitched  yet,  there  the  old  man  stands- 

A'  old  tin  lantern  in  his  hands 

An'  monkey-wrench ;  an'  he  don't  seem 

To  make  things  out,  a-standin'  there. 

He  comes  on  to  the  gate  an'  feels 

An'  fumbles  fer  the  latch — then  hears 

A  voice  that  chills  him  to  the  heels — 

"You  halt !  an'  stand  right  where  you  air  !! 

Then,  sir!  my — my — his  son-in-law, 

There  at  the  winder  wiv  his  gun, 

He  tell  the  old  man  what  he's  done : 

"You  hold  my  wife  a  prisoner — 

An'  your  wife,  drat  ye!  I've  got  her! 

An'  now,  sir,"  Uncle  say  he  say, 

"You  ist  turn  round  an'  climb  wite  in 

That  wagon,  an'  drive  home  ag'in 

An'  bring  my  wife  back  wite  away, 

An'  we'll  trade  then — an'  not  before 

Will  I  unlock  my  cellar-door — 

Not  fer  your  wife's  sake  ner  your  own; 

But  my  wife's  sake — an'  hers  alone!" 

An',  Uncle  say,  it  don't  sound  like 

It's  so,  but  yet  it  is ! — He  say, 

From  wite  then,  somepin'  seem'  to  strike 

The  old  man's  funny-bone  some  way ; 

An',  minute  more,  that  team  o'  his 

Went  tearin'  down  the  road  k'whiz! 

An'  in  the  same  two-forty  style 

Come  whizzin'  back !    An'  oh,  that-air 

Sweet  girl  a-cryin'  all  the  while, 


y* 


THE   HOOS1ER   BOOK 

Thinkhv  about  her  Ma  there,  shet 

In  her  own  daughter's  cellar,  where 

1st  week  or  so  she's  kep'  house  there, 

She  hadn't  time  to  clean  it  yet! 

So  when  her  Pa  an'  her  they  git 

There — an'  the  young  man  grab'  an'  kiss 

An'  hug  her,  till  she  make  him  quit 

An'  ask  him  where  her  mother  is. 

An*  then  he  smile*  an'  try  to  not; 

Then  slow-like  find  th'  old  padlock  key, 

An'  blow  a'  oat-hull  out  of  it, 

An'  then  stoop  down  there  where  he's  got 

Her  Ma  locked  up  so  keer fully — 

An*  where,  wite  there,  he  say  he  thought 

It  art  to  been  the  old  man — though 

Uncle,  he  say,  he  reckon  not — 

When  out  she  bounced,  all  tickled  so 

To  taste  fresh  air  ag'in  an'  find 

Her  folks  wunst  more,  an'  grab'  her  chile 

An'  cry  an'  laugh,  an'  even  go 

An'  hug  the  old  man  ;  an'  he  wind 

Her  in  his  arms,  an'  laugh,  an'  pat 

Her  back,  an'  say  he's  riconciled, 

in  such  a  happy  scene  as  that, 

To  swap  his  daughter  for  her  Ma, 

An'  have  so  smart  a  son-in-law 

As  they  had  !    "Yes,  an'  he's  my  Pa !" 

I  laugh'  an'  yell',  "Hooray-hooraw !" 


iiifb  yrr;  *nju 
309 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

__  .r 

162          Almost  Beyond  Endurance 

I   AIN'T  a-goin'  lo  cry  no  more,  no  more ! 
I'm  got  ear-ache,  an'  Ma  can't  make 
It  quit  a-tall; 

An'  Carlo  bite  my  rubber-ball 
An'  puncture  it;  an'  Sis  she  take 
An*  poke'  my  knife  down  through  the  stable-floor 

An'  loozed  it — blame  it  all ! 
But  I  ain't  goin'  to  cry  no  more,  no  more ! 

An'  Aunt  Mame  wrote  she's  comin',  an'  she  can't — • 

Folks  is  come  there! — An'  I  don't  care 
She  is  my  Aunt ! 

An'  my  eyes  stings ;  an'  I'm 

1st  coughin'  all  the  time, 
An'  hurts  me  so,  an'  where  my  side's  so  sore 

Grampa  felt  where,  an'  he 

Says  "Mayby  it's  plcurasy!" 
But  I  ain't  goin'  to  cry  no  more,  no  more ! 

An'  I  clumbed  up  an'  nen  failed  off  the  fence. 
An'  Herbert  he  ist  laugh  at  me ! 
An'  my  fi'-cents 

It  sticked  in  my  tin  bank,  an'  I  ist  tore 
Purt'  nigh  by  thumbnail  off,  a-tryin'  to  git 
It  out — nen  smash  it ! — An*  it's  in  there  yit ! 

But  I  ain't  goin'  to  cry  no  more,  no  more ! 

Oo!  I'm  so  wicknd! — An'  my  breath's  so  hot— 

Ist  like  I  run  an'  don't  res'  none 
But  ist  run  on  when  I  ought  to  not; 
Yes,  an'  my  chin 

310 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  lips's  all  warpy,  an'  teeth's  so  fast, 
An*  's  a  place  in  my  throat  I  can't  swaller  past — 
An*  they  all  hurt  so ! — 
An'  oh,  my-oh ! 
I'm  a-startin'  ag'in — 

I'm  a-startin'  ag'in,  but  I  won't,  fer  shore ! — 
/  ist  ain't  gain'  to  cry  no  more,  no  more! 


The  Lisper 

ELSIE  MINGUS  lisps,  she  does! 
She  lives  wite  acrosst  from  us 
In  Miz.  Ayers'uz  house  'at  she 
Rents  part  to  the  Mingusuz. — 
Yes,  an'  Elsie  plays  wiv  me. 

Elsie  lisps  so,  she  can't  say 
Her  own  name,  ist  anyway! — 

She  says  "Elthy" — like  they  wuz 
Feathers  on  her  words,  an'  they 

Ist  stick  on  her  tongue  like  fuzz. 

Myf  she's  purty,  though! — An'  when 
She  lisps,  w'y,  she's  purty  nen! 

When  she  telled  me,  wunst,  her  doll 
Wuz  so  "thweet,"  an'  T  p'ten' 

/  lisp  too, — she  laugh' — 'at's  all ! — 


311 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

She  don't  never  git  mad  none— 
'Cause  she  know  I'm  ist  in  fun.— 
Elsie  she  ain't  one  bit  sp'iled.— 
Of  all  childerns— ever'  one- 
She's  the  ladylike st  child  !— 

My  Ma  say  she  is !    One  time 
Elsie  start  to  say  the  rhyme, 

"Thing  a  thong  o'  thixpenth"— Wheel 
I  ist  yell!   An'  Ma  say  I'm 

Unpolite  as  I  can  be ! 

Wunst  I  went  wiv  Ma  to  call 
On  Elsie's  Ma,  an'  eat  an'  all ; 

An'  nen  Elsie,  when  we've  et, 
An'  we're  playin'  in  the  hall, 

Elsie  say:  It's  etikett 

Fer  young  gentlemens,  like  me, 
Eatin'  when  they's  company, 

Not  to  never  ever  crowd 
Down  their  food,  ner  "thip  their  tea 

Ner  thup  thoop  so  awful  loud !" 


.9d$uot-  -wff  oo 
Our  Betsy 


US  CHILDERN'S  all  so  lonesome, 
We  hardly  want  to  play 
Or  skip  or  swing  or  anything,  — 
'Cause  Betsy  she's  away! 
.312 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

She's  gone  to  see  her  people 
At  her  old  home. — But  then — 

Oh!  every  child'll  jist  be  wild 
When  she's  back  here  again ! 

CHORUS 

Then  it's  whoopty-doopty  do o den! — 

Whoopty-dooden  then! 
Oh!  it's  whoopty-doopty  doodcn, 

When  Betsy's  back  again! 

She's  like  a  mother  to  us, 

And  like  a  sister,  too — 
Oh,  she's  as  sweet  as  things  to  eat 

When  all  the  dinner's  through ! 

And  hey !  to  hear  her  laughin' ! 

And  ho !  to  hear  her  sing  !— 
To  have  her  back  is  all  we  lack 

Of  havin'  everything! 

CHORUS 

Then  it's  whoopty-doopty  dooden!— 

Whoopty-dooden  then! 
Oh!  it's  whoopty-doopty  doodcn, 

When  Betsy's  back  again! 

Oh !  some  may  sail  the  northern  lakes, 

And  some  to  foreign  lands, 
And  some  may  seek  old  Nameless  Creek, 

Or  India's  golden  sands; 
3T3 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Or  some  may  go  to  Kokomo, 
And  some  to  Mackinac,  — 

But  I'll  go  down  to  Morgantown 
To  fetch  our  Betsy  back. 

CHORUS 

Then  it's  ivhoopty-doopty  dooden! 

Whoopty-dooden  then! 
Oh!  it's  whoopty-doopty  dooden, 

When  Betsy's  back  again! 


The  Toy-Balloon 


wuz  a  Big  Day  wunst  in  town, 
A      An'  little  Jason's  Pa 
Buyed  him  a  little  toy-balloon, 

The  first  he  ever  saw.  — 
An'  oh  !  but  Jase  wuz  more'n  proud, 

A-holdin'  to  the  string 
And  scrougin'  through  the  grea'-big  crowd, 

To  hear  the  Glee  Club  sing. 

The  Glee  Club  it  wuz  goin'  to  sing 

In  old  Masonic  Hall  ; 
An'  Speakin',  it  wuz  in  there,  too, 

An'  soldiers,  folks  an'  all  : 
An'  Jason's  Pa  he  git  a  seat 

An'  set  down  purty  soon, 
A-holdin'  little  Jase,  an'  him 

A-holdin'  his  balloon. 

3U 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  while  the  Speakin'  's  startin'  up 

An'  ever'body  still — 
The  first  you  know  wuz  little  Jase 

A-yellin'  fit  to  kill  !— 
Nen  Jason's  Pa  jump  on  his  seat 

An'  grab  up  in  the  air, — 
But  little  Jason's  toy-balloon 

Wuz  clean  away  from  there ! 
jishl  bio  ?;>ii  Yti,  ,>r.)OiIrt  \]':yA-j>-sl'j  -st»fl  'nA 
An'  Jase  he  yelled ;  an'  Jase's  Pa, 

Still  lookin'  up,  clumb  down — 
While  that-air  little  toy-balloon 

Went  bumpin'  roun'  an'  roun' 
Ag'inst  the  ceilin',  'way  up  there 

Where  ever'body  saw, 
An'  they  all  yelled,  an'  Jason  yelled, 

An'  little  Jason's  Pa ! 

But  when  his  Pa  he  packed  him  out 

A-screamin' — nen  the  crowd 
Looked  down  an'  hushed — till  they  looked  up 

An'  howled  again  out  loud ; 
An'  nen  the  speaker,  mad  an'  pale, 

Jist  turned  an'  left  the  stand, 
An'  all  j'ined  in  the  Glee  Club — "Hail, 

Columby,  Happy  Land  !" 


315 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


1  66  Old  Granny  Dusk 

^HeX  3-brii  stm  ygtu4  W>'£.^?-i)  31'T 

OLD  Granny  Dusk,  when  the  sun  goes  down, 
Here  she  comes  into  thish-yer  town  ! 
Out  o'  the  wet  black  woods  an'  swamps 
In  she  traipses  an'  trails  an'  tromps  — 
With  her  old  sunbonnet  all  floppy  an'  brown, 
An'  her  cluckety  shoes,  an'  her  old  black  gown, 
Here  she  comes  into  thish-yer  town  ! 

-HfWKOif)  •flifiufu  ,([17  '.'iinfool  llll'ri 
Old  Granny  Dusk,  when  the  bats  begin 
To  flap  around,  comes  a-trompin'  in  ! 
An'  the  katydids  they  rasp  an'  whir, 
An'  the  lightnin'-bugs  all  blink  at  her; 
An'  the  old  Hop-toad  turns  in  his  thumbs, 
An'  the  bunglin'  June-bug  booms  an*  bums, 
An'  the  Bullfrog  croaks,  "O  here  she  comes  !" 

Old  Granny  Dusk,  though  I'm  'feard  o'  you, 

Shore-fer-certain  I'm  sorry,  too: 

'Cause  you  look  as  lonesome  an'  starved  an'  sad 

As  a  mother  'at's  lost  ever'  child  she  had.  — 

Yet  never  a  child  in  thish-yer  town 

Clings  at  yer  hand  er  yer  old  black  gown, 

Er  kisses  the  face  you're  a-bendin'  down. 


THE   HOOS1ER   BOOK 

Billy  Miller's  Circus-Show 

AT  BILLY  MILLER'S  Circus-Show— 
In  their  old  stable  where  it's  at — 
The  boys  pays  twenty  pins  to  go, 

An'  gits  their  money's-worth  at  that ! — 
'Cause  Billy  he  can  climb  and  chalk 
His  stockin'-feet  an'  purt'  nigh  walk 
A  tight-rope — yes,  an*  cf  he  fall 
He'll  ketch,  an'  "skin  a  cat"— 'at's  all ! 

He  ain't  afeard  to  swing  and  hang 
1st  by  his  legs  1 — an'  mayby  stop 

An'  yell  "Look  out !"  an'  nen — k-spang ! — 
He'll  let  loose,  upside-down,  an'  drop 
Wite  on  his  hands !    An'  nen  he'll  do 
"Contortion-acts"— ist  limber  through 
As  "Injarubber  Mens"  'at  goes 
With  shore-fer-certain  circus-shows ! 

At  Billy  Miller's  Circus-Show 
He's  got  a  circus-ring — an'  they's 

A  dressin'-room, — so's  he  can  go 

An'  dress  an'  paint  up  when  he  plays 
He's  somepin'  else ; — 'cause  sometimes  he's 
"Ringmaster" — bossin'  like  he  please — 
An'  sometimes  "Ephalunt" — er  "Bare- 
Back  Rider,"  prancin'  out  o'  there ! 

An*  sometimes — an'  the  best  of  all! — 
He's  "The  Old  Clown,"  an'  got  on  clo'es 

All  stripud, — an'  white  hat,  all  tall 
An'  peakud — like  in  shore-'nuff  shows, — 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


An'  got  three-cornered  red-marks,  too, 
On  his  white  cheeks— ist  like  they  do  !- 
An'  you'd  ist  die,  the  way  he  sings 
An'  dances  an'  says  funny  things ! 


168  Good-By  cr  Howdy-Do 

SAY  good-by  er  howdy-do — 
What's  the  odds  betwixt  the  two? 
Comin' — goin',  ev'ry  day — 
Best  friends  first  to  go  away — 
Grasp  of  hands  you'd  ruther  hold 
Than  their  weight  in  solid  gold 
Slips  their  grip  while  greetin'  you. — • 
Say  good-by  er  howdy-do ! 

Howdy-do,  and  then,  good-by — 
Mixes  jes'  like  laugh  and  cry; 
Deaths  and  births,  and  worst  and  best, 
Tangled  their  contrariest ; 
Ev'ry  jinglin'  weddin'-bell 
Skerrin'  up  some  funer'l  knell. — 
Here's  my  song,  and  there's  your  sigh.— 
Howdy-do,  and  then,  good-by! 

Say  good-by  er  howdy-do — • 
Jes'  the  same  to  me  and  you ; 
'Tain't  worth  while  to  make  no  fuss, 
'Cause  the  job's  put  up  on  us ! 


THE   HOOSIER  BOOK 

Some  One's  runnin'  this  concern 
That's  got  nothin'  else  to  learn  : 
Ef  He's  willin',  we'll  pull  through- 
Say  good-by  er  howdy-do ! 


169  Never  Talk  Back 

NEVER  talk  back !  sich  things  is  repperhensible ; 
A  feller  only  hurts  hisse'f  that  jaws  a  man  that's 

hot; 
In  a  quarrel,  ef  you'll  only  keep  your  mouth  shet  and  act 

sensible, 
The  man  that  does  the  talkin'  '11  git  worsted  every  shot ! 

Never  talk  back  to  a  feller  that's  abusin'  you— 

Jes'  let  him  carry  on,  and  rip,  and  snort,  and  swear ; 
And  when  he  finds  his  blamin'  and  defamin'  's  jes'  amusin' 

you, 

You've  got  him  clean  kaflummixed, — and  you  want  to 
hold  him  there ! 

Never  talk  back,  and  wake  up  the  whole  community 
And  call  a  man  a  liar,  over  Law,  er  Politics. — 

You  can   lift  and  land  him    furder   and   with  gracefuller 

impunity 
With  one  good  jolt  of  silence  than  half  a  dozen  kicks! 


319 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 
Me  and  Mary 

ALL  my  feelin's  in  the  Spring- 
Gits  so  blame  contrary, 
I  can't  think  of  anything 

Only  me  and  Mary ! 
"Me  and  Mary !"  all  the  time, 
"Me  and  Mary!"  like  a  rhyme, 
Keeps  a-dingin'  on  till  I'm 
Sick  o'  "Me  and  Mary !" 

"Me  and  Mary !    Ef  us  two 

Only  was  together — 
Playin*  like  we  used  to  do 

In  the  Aprile  weather !" 
All  the  night  and  all  the  day 
I  keep  wishin'  thataway 
Till  I'm  gittin'  old  and  gray 

Jes'  on  "Me  and  Mary !" 

Muddy  yit  along  the  pike 

Sence  the  Winter's  freezin', 
And  the  orchard's  back'ard-like 

Bloomin'  out  this  season  ; 
Only  heerd  one  bluebird  yit — 
Nary  robin  ner  tomtit ; 

What's  the  how  and  why  of  it? 

i " - 1  u  > '.  1 K    1 i J  i    n  '•  -> 

'Spect  it's  "Me  and  Mary!" 

Me  and  Mary  liked  the  birds — 

That  is,  Mary  sort  o' 
Liked  'em  first,  and  afterwards, 

W'y,  I  thought  I'd  ort  'o. 
320 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  them  birds — ef  Mary  stood 
Right  here  with  me,  like  she  should — 
They'd  be  singin',  them  birds  would, 

All  fer  me  and  Mary. 
..tioiia  'ffhnjji  .-,Ji io-os ori  aiil  ts^II 
Birds  er  not,  I'm  hopin'  some 

I  can  git  to  plowin' ! 
Ef  the  sun'll  only  come, 

And  the  Lord  allowin', 
Guess  to-morry  I'll  turn  in 
And  git  down  to  work  ag'in ; 
This  here  loaferin'  won't  win, 

Not  fer  me  and  Mary ! 
'!  JB' tfsifi  h'lo  t'tftli  OTOiI//  VibnoY/ 
Fer  a  man  that  loves,  like  me, 

And's  afeard  to  name  it, 
Till  some  other  feller,  he 

Gits  the  girl— dad-shame-it! 
Wet  er  dry,  er  clouds  er  sun — 
Winter  gone  er  jes'  begun — 
Outdoor  work  fer  me  er  none, 

No  more  "Me  and  Mary!" 


171  Fire  at  Night 

FIRE !    Fire !    Ring !  and  ring ! 
Hear  the  old  bell  bang  and  ding ! 
Fire !    Fire !  'way  at  night, — 
Can't  you  hear  ? — I  think  you  might  1 — 
Can't  you  hear  them-air  clangin'  bells  ?- 
W'y,  /  can't  hear  nothin'  else  1 


321 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Fire  !    Ain't  you  'wake  at  last ! — 
Hear  them  horses  poundin'  past — 
Hear  that  ladder-wagon  grind 
Round  the  corner  1 — and,  behind, 
Hear  the  hose-cart,  turnin'  short, 
And  the  horses  slip  and  snort, 
As  the  engine's  clank-and-jar 
Jolts  the  whole  street,  near  and  far. 
Fire  !     Fire  !     Fire  I     Fire ! 
Can't  3'ou  h'ist  that  winder  higher? 
La  !  they've  all  got  past  like  "scat !" 
Night's  as  black  as  my  old  hat— 
And  it's  rainin',  too,  at  that !     .     .     . 
Wonder  where  their  old  fire's  at! 


if 2     A  Fall-Crick  View  of  the  Earth 
quake 

I   KIN  hump  my  back  and  take  the  rain, 
And  1  don't  keer  how  she  pours; 
I  kin  keep  kind  o'  ca'm  in  a  thunder-storm, 

No  matter  how  loud  she  roars; 
I  hain't  much  skeered  o'  the  lightnin' 

Ner  I  hain't  sich  awful  shakes 
Afeard  o'  cyclones — but  I  don't  want  none 
O'  yer  dad-burned  old  earthquakes ! 

As  long  as  my  legs  keeps  stiddy, 
And  long  as  my  head  keeps  plum', 

And  the  buildin'  stays  in  the  front  lot, 
I  still  kin  whistle,  some! 
322 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

But  about  the  time  the  old  clock 

Flops  off'n  the  mantel-shelf, 
And  the  bureau  skoots  fer  the  kitchen, 

I'm  a-goin'  to  skoot,  myself ! 

Plague-take !  ef  you  keep  me  stabled 

While  any  earthquakes  is  around ! — 
I'm  jes'  like  the  stock, — I'll  beller 

And  break  fer  the  open  ground ! 
And  I  'low  you'd  be  as  nervous, 

And  in  jes'  about  my  fix, 
When  your  whole  farm  slides  from  inunder  you, 

And  on'y  the  mor'gage  sticks ! 

Now  cars  hain't  a-goin'  to  kill  you 

Ef  you  don't  drive  'crost  the  track ; 
Crediters  never'll  jerk  you  up 

Ef  you  go  and  pay  'em  back ; 
You  kin  stand  all  moral  and  mundane  storms 

Ef  you'll  on'y  jes'  behave — 
But  a'  EARTHQUAKE  i — well,  ef  it  wanted  you 

It  'ud  husk  you  out  o'  yer  grave ! 


j  Spirits  at  Home 

THE  FAMILY 

THERE  was  Father,  and  Mother,  and  Emmy,  and 
Jane, 

And  Lou,  and  Ellen,  and  John  and  me — 

And  Father  was  killed  in  the  war,  and  Lou 

She  died  of  consumption,  and  John  did  too, 

And  Emmy  she  went  with  the  pleurisy. 

323 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

THE  SPIRITS 

Father  believed  in  'em  all  his  life — 

But  Mother,  at  first,  she'd  shake  her  head — 

Till  after  the  battle  of  Champion  Hill, 

When  many  a  flag  in  the  winder-sill 

Had  crape  mixed  in  with  the  white  and  red ! 

I  used  to  doubt  'em  myself  till  then — 

But  me  and  Mother  was  satisfied 
When  Ellen  she  set,  and  Father  came 
And  rapped  "God  Bless  You !"  and  Mother's  name, 

And 'The  Flag's  up  here !"    .    .    .    And  we  all  just 
cried. 

Used  to  come  to  us  often,  after  that, 

And  talk  to  us — just  as  he  used  to  do, 
Pleasantest  kind !     And  once,  for  John, 
He  said  he  was  "lonesome,  but  wouldn't  let  on — 
Fear  Mother  would  worry,  and  Emmy  and  Lou." 

But  Lou  was  the  bravest  girl  on  earth — 
For  all  she  never  was  hale  and  strong, 
She'd  have  her  fun ! — With  her  voice  clean  lost 
She'd  laugh  and  joke  us  that  "when  she  crossed 
To  Father,  we'd  all  come  taggin'  along!" 

Died — just  that  way!    And  the  raps  was  thick 

That  night,  as  they  often  since  occur, 
Extry  loud !    And  when  Lou  got  back 
She  said  it  was  Father  and  her — and  "whack!" 

She  tuk  the  table — and  we  knowed  her! 


324 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

John  and  Emmy,  in  five  years  more, 

Both  had  went. — And  it  seemed  like  fate, 

For  the  old  home  it  burnt  down. — But  Jane 

And  me  and  Ellen  we  built  again 
The  new  house,  here,  on  the  old  estate. 

And  a  happier  family  I  don't  know 

Of  anywheres — unless  it's  them, — 
Father,  with  all  his  love  for  Lou, 
And  her  there  with  him,  and  healthy,  too, 

And  laughin',  with  John  and  little  Em. 

And,  first  we  moved  in  the  new  house  here, 

They  all  dropped  in  for  a  long  powwow  : — 
"We  like  your  buildin',  of  course,"  Lou  said, — 
"But  wouldn't  swap  with  you  to  save  your  head— 
For  we  live  in  the  ghost  of  the  old  house  now !" 


Some  Christinas  Youngsters 


THE   STRENGTH    OF  THE   WEAK 


EST  Chris'mus,  little  Benny 
Wuzn't  sick  so  bad,  — 
Now  he's  had  the  worst  spell 

Ever  yet  he  had. 
Ever'  Chris'mus-morning,  though, 

He'll  p'tend  as  if 
He's  asleep  —  an'  first  you  know 
He's  got  your  "Chris'mus-giP!" 

325 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Pa  he's  good  to  all  of  us 

All  the  time;  but  when, 
Ever'  time  it's  Chris'mus, 

He's  as  good-again  ! — 
'Sides  our  toys  an'  candy, 

Ever'  Chris'mus,  he 
Gives  us  all  a  quarter, 

Certain  as  can  be ! 

Pa,  this  morning,  tiptoe'  in 

To  make  the  fire,  you  know, 
Long  'fore  it's  daylight, 

An'  all's  ice  an'  snow ! — 
An'  Benny  holler,  "Chris'mus-gifl" 

An'  Pa  jump  an'  say, 
"You'll  only  git  a  dollar  if 

You  skeer  me  thataway!" 


THE  LITTLE  QUESTIONER 

Babe  she's  so  always 

Wantin'  more  to  hear 
All  about  Santy  Claus, 

An'  says :  "Mommy  dear, 
Where's  Santy's  home  at 

When  he  ain't  away? — 
An'  is  they  Mizzuz  Santy  Claus 

An'  little  folks— say?— 
Chris'mus,  Santy's  always  here — 

Don't  they  want  him,  too? 
When  it  ain't  Chris'mus 

What  does  he  do?" 

326 


THE   HOOSTER   BOOK 
in 

PARENTAL  CHRISTMAS  PRESENTS 

Parunts  don't  git  toys  an'  things, 

Like  you'd  think  they  ruther. — 
Mighty  funny  Chris'mus-gif's 

Parunts  gives  each  other  ! — 
Pa  give  Ma  a  barrel  o'  flour, 

An'  Ma  she  give  to  Pa 
The  nicest  dinin'-table 

She  know  he  ever  saw  1 

srt&'i     :  bloD   !  visiine!  >5A.7LI  ( 


'bbirrrt  ooj  v/ona  b 


327 


MORNING 

'-A  Ho  osier  Calendar 

JANUARY 

BLEAK  January!   Cold  as  fate, 
And  ever  colder  —  ever  keener  — 
Our  very  hair  cut  while  we  wait 

By  winds  that  clip  it  ever  cleaner: 
Cold  as  a  miser's  buried  gold, 

Or  nether-deeps  of  old  tradition— 
Jeems  January  f  you're  a  cold 
Proposition  ! 

FEBRUARY 

You,  February,  —  seem  to  be 

Old  January's  understudy, 
But  play  the  part  too  vaudeville-y,  — 

With  wind  too  moist  and  snow  too  muddy  — 
You  overfreeze  and  overthaw  — 

Your  "Hos'ler  Jo'Mike  recitation 
But  hints  that  you're,  at  best,  a  raw 
Imitation. 


328 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

MARCH 

And,  March,  you've  got  no  friends  to  spare- 
Warm  friends,  I  mean — unless  coal-dealers, 

Or  gas-well  owners,  pipin'  where 
The  piper's  paid — above  all  spielers ; 

You  are  a  month,  too,  of  complex 
Perversities  beyond  solution — 

A  sort  o'  "loveliest  of  your  sex" 
Institution ! 

APRIL 

But,  April,  when  you  kind  o'  come 
A-sa'nterin'  down  along  our  roadway, 

The  bars  is  down,  and  we're  at  home, 
And  you're  as  welcome  as  a  show-day ! 

First  thing  we  know,  the  sunshine  falls 
Spring-like,  and  drenches  all  Creation 

With  that-'ere  ba'm  the  poet  calls 
"Inspiration." 

MAY 

And  May! — It's  warmin'  jest  to  sec 

The  crick  thawed  clear  ag'in  and  daiicin'— 

'Pear-like  it's  tickled  'most  as  me 
A-prancin'  'crosst  it  with  my  pants  on  ! 

And  then  to  hear  the  bluebird  whet 
His  old  song  up  and  lance  it  through  you, 

Clean  through  the  boy's  heart  beatin'  yet— 
Hallylooya ! 


329 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

JUNE 

June — 'LI,  I  jest  git  doped  on  June! — 

The  trees  and  grass  all  at  their  greenest — 

The  round  earth  swung  'twixt  sun  and  moon, 
Jest  at  its — so  to  say — serenest : — 

In  country, — stars  and  whipperwills ; 
In  town, — all  night  the  boys  invadin' 

Leadin'  citizens'  winder-sills, 
Sair-a-nadin'. 

JULY 

Fish  still  a-bitin' — some;  but  'most 

Too  hot  fer  anything  but  layin' 
Jest  do-less  like,  and  watchin'  clo'st 

The  treetops  and  the  squirrels  playin'— 
Their  tail-tips  switched  'bove  knot  and  limb, 

But  keepin*  most  in  sequestration — 
Leavin'  a  big  part  to  the  im- 
Magination. 

AUGUST 

Now  when  it's  August — I  can  tell 
It  by  a  hundred  signs  and  over ; — 

They  is  a  mixed  ripe-apple-smell 

And  mashed-down  grass  and  musty  clover ; 

Bees  is  as  lazy  'most  as  me — 

Bee-bird  eats  'em — gap's  his  wings  out 

So  'lazy  'at  I  don't  think  he 

Spits  their  stings  out! 

330 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

SEPTEMBER 

September,  you  appeal  to  all, 

Both  young  and  old,  lordly  and  lowly ; 
You  stuff  the  haymow,  trough  and  stall, 

Till  horse  and  cow's  as  roly-poly 
As  pigs  is,  slopped  on  buttermilk 

And  brand,  shipstuff  and  'tater-peelin's— 
And  folks,  too,  feelin'  fine  as  silk 
With  all  their  f eelin's  1 

OCTOBER 

If  I'd  be'n  asked  for  my  advice, 

And  thought  the  thing  out,  ca'm  and  sober- 
Sizin'  the  months  all  once  or  twice, — 

I'd  la'nch'd  the  year  out  with  October.     . 
All  Nature  then  jest  veiled  and  dressed 

In  weddin'  gyarments,  ornamented 
With  ripe-fruit-gems — and  kissin'  jest 
New-invented ! 

NOVEMBER 

I'm  'feared  November's  hopes  is  few 

And  far  between! — Cold  as  a  Monday- 
Washday,  er  a  lodge-man  who 

You'  got  to  pallbear  for  on  Sunday ; 
Colder  and  colder  every  day — 

The  fixed  official  time  for  sighin', — 
A  sinkin'  state  you  jest  can't  stay 
In,  or  die  in  ! 

331 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

DECEMBER 

December — why,  of  course  we  grin 
And  bear  it — shiverin'  every  minute, 

Yet  warm  from  time  the  month  rolls  in 
Till  it  skites  out  with  Christmas  in  it ; 

And  so,  for  all  its  coldest  truths 
And  chill,  goose-pimpled  imperfections, 

It  wads  our  lank  old  socks  with  Youth's 
Recollections. 


1/6        The  Hired  Man's  Dog-Story 

Twa  dogs  that  were  na  throng  at  hame 
Forgather'd  ance  upon  a  time. 

• — BURNS. 


DOGS,  I  contend,  is  jes*  about 
Nigh  human — git  'em  studied  out. 
I  hold,  like  us,  they've  got  their  own 
Reasonin'  powers  'at's  theirs  alone— 
Same  as  their  tricks  and  habits  too, 
Provin',  by  lots  o'  things  they  do, 
That  instinct's  not  the  only  thing 
That  dogs  is  governed  by,  i  jing! — 
And  I'll  say  furder,  on  that  line, 

And  prove  it,  that  they's  dogs  a-plenty 
Will  show  intelligence  as  fine 

As  ary  ten  men  out  o'  twenty ! 

332 


THE   HOOSIER  BOOK 

Jevver  investigate  the  way 
Sheep-killin'  dogs  goes  at  it — hey? 
Well,  you  dig  up  the  facts  and  you 
Will  find,  first  thing,  they's  always  two 
Dogs  goes  together  on  that  spree 
O'  blood  and  puore  dog-deviltry! 
And,  then,  they  always  go  at  night — 
Mind  ye,  it's  never  in  daylight, 
When  folks  is  up  and  wide  awake, — 
No  self-respectin'  dogs'll  make 
Mistakes  o'  judgment  on  that  score,-- 
And  I've  knowed  fifty  head  or  more 
O'  slaughtered  sheep  found  in  the  lot, 
Next  morning  the  old  farmer  got 
His  folks  up  and  went  out  -to  feed, — 
And  every  livin'  soul  agreed 
That  all  night  long  they  never  heerd 
The  bark  o'  dog  ner  bleat  o'  skeered 
And  racin',  tromplin'  flock  o'  sheep 

A-skallyhootin'  roun'  the  pastur', 
To  rouse  'em  from  their  peaceful  sleep 

To  that  heart-renderin'  disaster ! 

Well,  now,  they's  actchul  evidence 
In  all  these  facts  set  forth ;  and  hence 
When,  by  like  facts,  it  has  been  foun' 
That  these  two  dogs— colloguin'  roun' 
At  night  as  thick  as  thieves — by  day 
Don't  go  together  anyway, 
And,  'pearantly,  hain't  never  met 
Each  other;  and  the  facts  is  set 


333 


THE   HOOSIER  BOOK 

On  record   furder,  that  these  smart 
Old  pards  in  crime  lives  miles  apart — 
Which  is  a  trick  o'  theirs,  to  throw 
Off  all  suspicion,   don't  you  know! — 
One's  a  tozvn-dog — belongin'  to 
Some  good  man,  maybe — er  to  you  !•— 
And  one's  a  country-dog,  er  "jay" 
As  you  nickname  us  thataway. 
Well,  now ! — these  is  the  facts  I'  got 

(And,  mind  ye,  these  is  facts — not  guesses) 
To  argy  on,  concernin'  what 

Fine  reasonin'  powers  dogs  p'sesses. 

My  idy  is, — the  dog  lives  in 

The  town,  we'll  say,  runs  up  ag'in 

The  country-dog,  some  Saturday, 

Under  a'  old  farm-wagon,  say, 

Down  at  the  Court-house  hitchin'-rack. — 

Both  lifts  the  bristles  on  their  back 

And  show  their  teeth  and  growl  as  though 

They  meant  it  pleasant-like  and  low, 

In  case  the  fight  hangs  fire.     And  they 

Both  wag  then  in  a  friendly  way, 

The  town-dog  sayin' : — "Seems  to  me, 

Last  Dimocratic  jubilee, 

I  seen  you  here  in  town  somewhere?" 

The  country-dog  says  : — "Right  you  air ! — 

And  right  here's  where  you  seen  me,  too, 

Under  this  wagon,  watchin'  you!" 

"Yes,"  says  the  town-dog, — "and  I  thought 

We'd  both  bear  watchin',  like  as  not." 


334 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  as  he  yawns  and  looks  away, 

The  country-dog  says,  "What's  your  lay?" 

The  town-dog  whets  his  feet  a  spell 

And  yawns  ag'in,  and  then  says, — "Well, 

Before  I  answer  that — Ain't  you 

A  Mill  Crick  dog,  a  mile  er  two 

From  old  Chape  Clayton's  stock-farm—say?" 

"Who  told  you?''  says  the  jay-dog— "hey ?" 

And  looks  up,  real  su'prised.     "I  guessed" 

The  town-dog  says — "You  tell  the  rest, — 

How's  old  Chape's  mutton,  anyhow? — 

How  many  of  'em's  ready  now — 

How  many's  ripe  enough  f er  use, 

And  how's  the  hot,  red,  rosy  juice?" 

"  'Mm !"  says  the  country-dog,  "I  think 

I  sort  o'  see  a  little  blink 

O'  what  you  mean."    And  then  he  stops 

And  turns  and  looks  up  street  and  lops 

His  old  wet  tongue  out,  and  says  he, 

Lickin*  his  lips,  all  slobbery, 

"Ad-drat  my  melts!  you're  jes'  my  man! — 

I'll  trust  you,  'cause  I  know  I  can !" 

And  then  he  says,  "I'll  tell  you  jes' 

How  things  is,  and  Chape's  carelessness 

About  his  sheep, — fer  instance,  say, 

To-morry  Chapes'll  all  be  'way 

To  Sund'y-meetin' — and  ag'in 

At  night."    "At  night?    That  lets  us  in  !— 

'Better  the  day'  " — the  town-dog  says — 

"  'Better  the  deed.'    We'll  pray  ;  Lord,  yes  1— 

May  the  outpourin'  grace  be  shed 

Abroad,  and  all  hearts  comforted 


335 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Accordin'  to  their  lights !"  saj^s  he, 
"And  that,  of  course,  means  you  and  me." 
And  then  they  both  snarled,  low  and  quiet — 
Swore  where  they'd  meet.    And  both  stood  by  it  I 

Jes'  half-past  eight  on  Sund'y  night, 
Them  two  dogs  meets, — the  town-dog,  light 
O'  foot,  though  five  mile'  he  had  spanned 
O'  field,  beech-wood  and  bottom-land. 
Bat,  as  books  says, — we  draw  a  veil 
Over  this  chapter  of  the  tale!     .    .    . 
Yit  when  them  two  infernal,  mean, 
Low,  orn'ry  whelps  has  left  the  scene 
O'  carnage — chased  and  putt  to  death 
The  last  pore  sheep, — they've  yit  got  breath 
Enough  to  laugh  and  joke  about 
The  fun  they've  had,  while  they  sneak  out 
The  woods-way  for  the  old  crick  where 
They  both  plunge  in  and  wash  their  hair 
And  rench  their  bloody  mouths,  and  grin, 
As  each  one  skulks  off  home  ag'in — 
Jes'  innardly  too  proud  and  glad 

To  keep  theirselves  from  kind  o'  strutting 
Thinkin'  about  the  fun  they'd  had — 

When  their  blame  wizzens  needed  cuttin'  1 

Dogs  is  deliber't. — They  can  bide 
Their  time  till  s'picions  all  has  died. 
The  country-dog  don't  'pear  to  care 
Per  town  no  more, — he's  off  somewhere 
When  the  folks  whistles,  as  they  head 
The  team  t'rds  town.    As  I  jes'  said, — • 

336 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Dogs  is  deliber't,  don't  forgit! 
So  this-here  dog  he's  got  the  grit 
To  jes'  deprive  hisse'f  o'  town 
For  'bout  three  weeks.  But  time  rolls  roun' !    . 
Same  as  they  first  met :— Saturday- 
Same  Court-house — hitch-rack — and  same  way 
The  team  wuz  hitched — same  wagon  where 
The  same  jay-dog  growls  under  there 
When  same  town-dog  comes  loafin'  by, 
With  the  most  innocentest  eye 
And  giner'l  meek  and  lowly  style, 
As  though  he'd  never  cracked  a  smile 
In  all  his  mortal  days ! — And  both 
Them  dogs  is  strangers,  you'd  take  oath  ! — • 

Both  keeps  a-lookin'  sharp,  to  see 
If  folks  is  watchin' — jes'  the  way 
They  acted  that  first  Saturday 

They  talked  so  confidentchully. 
"Well" — says  the  town-dog,  in  a  low 
And  careless  tone — "Well,  whatch  you  know  ?" 
"  'Know?' "  says  the  country-dog — "Lots  more 
Than  some  smart  people  knows— that's  shore !" 
And  then,  in  his  dog-language,  he 
Explains  how  slick  he  had  to  be 
When  some  suspicious  folks  come  roun' 
A-tryin'  to  track  and  run  him  down — 

Like  he'd  had  anything  to  do 
With  killin'  over  fifty  head 
O'  sheep!    "Jes'  think! — and  me" — he  said, 

"And  me  as  innocent  as  you, 
That  very  hour,  five  mile*  away 
In  this  town,  like  you  air  to-day !" 


337 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

"Ah !"  says  the  town-dog,  "there's  the  beauty 
O'  bein'  prepared  for  what  may  be, 

And  washin'  when  you've  done  your  duty! — ; 
No  stain  o'  blood  on  you  er  me 
Ner  wool  in  our  teeth ! — Then"  says  he, 

"When  wicked  men  has  wronged  us  so, 
We  ort  to  learn  to  be  forgivin' — 

Half  the  world,  of  course,  don't  know 
How  the  other  gits  its  livin* !" 


777  Her  Poet-Brother 


o 


H !  what  ef  little  childerns  all 

ijK'/y    ; 
Wuz  big  as  parunts  is ! 


Nen  I'd  join  pa's  Masonic  Hall 
An'  wear  gold  things  like  his ! 

An'  you'd  "receive,"  like  ma,  an'  be 
My  "hostuss" — An',  gee-whizz  ! 

We'd  alluz  have  ice-cream,  ef  we 
Wuz  big  as  parunts  is ! 

;•    V/O;"1    '. 

Wiv  all  the  money  mens  is  got — 

We'd  buy  a  Store  wiv  that, — 
1st  candy,  pies  an'  cakes,  an'  not 

No  drygoods — 'cept  a  hat- 
An'-plume  fer  you — an*  "plug"  fer  me, 

An'  clothes  like  ma's  an'  his, 
'At  on'y  ist  fit  us — ef  we 

Wuz  big  as  parunts  is ! 

338 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An*  —  ef  we  had  a  little  boy 

An'  girl  like  me  an'  you,  — 
Our  Store'd  keep  ever'  kind  o'  toy 

They'd  ever  want  us  to!  —  • 
We'd  hire  "Old  Kriss"  to  'tend  to  be 

The  boss  of  all  the  biz 
An'  ist  "charge"  ever'thing  —  ef  we 

Wuz  big  as  parunts  is! 
9vhh  oJ  *r  rfbirfw—  nJ-'nibfoW  ibill  rtO 


178      I'  Got  to  Face  Mother  To-day! 

viiji  vlitjvo  'ijrn&M  o5  }on  _  ^Tt>ii  *niJi£W  m'l  o?! 

I'  GOT  to  face  Mother  to-day,  fer  a  fact  !— 
F  got  to  face  Mother  to-day! 
And  jes'  how  Fll  dare  to,  an'  how  she  will  act, 

Is  more  than  a  mortal  can  say  I 
But  F  got  to  face  her  —  F  got  to  !    And  so 
Here's  a'  old  father  clean  at  the  end  of  his  row! 

And  Pink  and  Wade's  gone  to  the  farm  fer  her  now— 
And  Fm  keepin'  house  fer  'em  here  — 

Their  purty,  new  house  —  and  all  paid  fer!  —  But  how 
Am  /  goin'  to  meet  her,  and  clear 

Up  my  actchully  he'ppin'  'em  both  to  elope?  —  • 

('Cause  Mother  wuz  set  —  and  wuz  no  other  hope!) 

I  don't  think  it's  Wade  she's  so  biased  ag'in', 

But  his  bizness,  —  a  railroadin'  man 
'At  runs  a  switch-engine,  day  out  and  day  in, 

And's  got  to  make  hay  while  he  can,— 
It's  a  danycrsoinc  job,  I'll  admit,—  but  see  what 
A  fine-furnished  home  'at  he's  already  got'. 

339 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  Pink — W'y,  the  girl  wuz  just  pinin'  away,— 

So  what  could  her  old  father  do, 
When  he  found  her,  hid-like,  in  a  loose  load  of  hay, 

But  jes'  to  drive  on  clean  into 
The  aidge  of  the  city,  where — singular  thing ! — 
Wade  switched  us  away  to  the  Squire,  i  jing! 

Now — a-leavin'  me  here — they're  driv  off,  with  a  cheer, 
On  their  weddin'-trip — which  is  to  drive 

Straight  home  and  tell  Mother,  and  toll  her  back  here 
And  surrender  me,  dead  er  alive! 

So  I'm  waitin'  here — not  so  blame'  overly  gay 

As  I  wus, — 'cause  I*  got  to  face  Mother  to-day! 

Ivsb-o*  vxiroM  33£i   oJ  Jog  '1        -I 

J/p         A  Little  Lame  Boy's  Views 

ON  'Scursion-days — an'  Shows — an'  Fairs— 
They  ain't  no  bad  folks  anywheres  I— 
On  street-cars — same  as  you — 
Seems  like  somebody  allus  sees 
I'm  lame,  an'  takes  me  on  their  knees, 

An'  holds  my  crutches,  too— 
An*  asts  me  what's  my  name,  an'  pays 
My  fare  theirse'f— On  all  Big  Days ! 

The  mob  all  scrowdges  you  an*  makes 
Enough  o'  bluffs,  fer  goodness-sakes ! 

But  none  of  'em  ain't  mad — 
They're  only  let  tin'  on. — /  know ; — 
An'  I  can  tell  you  why  it's  so : 

They're  all  of  'em  too  glad — 

340 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

They're  ever'  one,  jes'  glad  as  me 
To  be  there,  er  they  wouldn't  be ! 

The  man  that  sells  the  tickets  snoops 
My  "one-er"  in,  but  sort  o'  stoops 

An'  grins  out  at  me — then 
Looks  mean  an'  business-like  an'  sucks 
His  big  mustache  at  me  an'  chucks 

Too  much  change  out  again. — 
He's  a  smooth  citizen,  an'  yit 
He  don't  fool  me  one  little  bit ! 

An'  then,  inside — fer  all  the  jam — 
Folks,  seems-like,  all  knows  who  I  am, 

An'  tips  me  nods  an'  winks ; 
An'  even  country-folks  has  made 
Me  he'p  eat  pie  an'  marmalade, 

With  bottled  milk  fer  "drinks"  !— 
Folks  all's  so  good  to  me  that  I — 
Sometimes — I  nearly  purt'  near*  cry. 

An'  all  the  kids,  high-toned  er  pore, 
Seems  better  than  they  wuz  before, 

An'  wants  to  kind  o'  "stand 
In"  with  a  feller — see  him  through 
The  free  lay-out  an'  sideshows,  too, 

An'  do  the  bloomin'  "grand" ! 
On  'Scursion-days — an'  Shows  an'  Fairs — 
They  ain't  no  bad  folks  anywheres ! 


341 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


180  Rabbit 

ISTOSE  it  takes  a  feller  'at's  be'n 
Raised  in  a  country-town,  like  me, 
To  'predate  rabbits !    .    .    .    Eight  er  ten 
Bellerin'  boys  and  two  er  three 
Yelpin'  dawgs  all  on  the  trail 
O'  one  little  pop-eyed  cottontail ! 

'Bout  the  first  good  fall  o'  snow— 
So's  you  kin  track  'em,  don't  you  know, 
Where  they've  run, — and  one  by  one 
Hop  'em  up  and  chase  'em  down 
And  prod  'em  out  of  a'  old  bresh-pile 
Er  a  holler  log  they're  a-hidin'  roun', 
Er  way  en-nunder  the  ricked  cord-wood 
Er  crosstie-stack  by  the  railroad  track 
'Bout  a  mile 

Out  o'  sight  o'  the  whole  ding  town !  .  . 
Well !  them's  times  'at  I  call  good  1 

/•Wi'xf  Ww  Y^ffj  Vtl»rfif  TifJ-yrf  pfn-vv- 
Rabbits !— w'y,  as  my  thoughts  goes  back 

To  them  old  boyhood  days  o'  mine, 
I  kin  sic  him  now  and  see  "Old  Jack" 
A-plowin'  snow  in  a  rabbit-track 
And  a-pitchin'  over  him,  head  and  heels, 
Like  a  blame'  hat-rack, 
As  the  rabbit  turns  fer  the  timber-line 
Down  the  County  Ditch  through  the  old 
corn-fields.    , 


342 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Yes,  and  I'll  say  right  here  to  you, 
Rabbits  that  boys  has  earnt,  like  that — 
Skinned  and  hung  fer  a  night  er  two 
On  the  old  back-porch  where  the  pump's 

done  froze — 

Then  fried  'bout  right,  where  your  brekfust's  at, 
With  hot  brown  gravy  and  shortenin'  bread, — • 
Rabbits,  like  them — er  I  ort  to  'a'  said, 
I  s'pose, 

Rabbits  like  those 
Ain't  so  p'ticalar  pore,  I  guess, 
Fer  eatin1  purposes! 

.03  ot  vat-fq  "^|m^w>';?mo8  taO 
\i\r.-7iu  \AciO — 'nimmiwa-fi'  nl 

Grampa's  Choice 


FIRST  and  best  of  earthly  joys, 
I  like  little  girls  and  boys : 
Which  of  all  do  I  like  best? 
Why,  the  one  that's  happiest. 


Think'm'  Back 


I'VE  be'n  thinkin'  back,  of  late, 
S'prisin' ! — And  I'm  here  to  state 
I'm  suspicious  it's  a  sign 
Of  age,  maybe,  er  decline 
Of  my  faculties,— and  yit 
I'm  not  feelin'  old  a  bit — 
Any  more  than  sixty-four 
Ain't  no  young  man  any  more ! 

343 


THE   IIOOSIER   BOOK 

Thinkin'  back's  a  thing  'at  grows 
On  a  feller,  I  suppose  — 
Older  'at  he  gits,  i  jack, 
More  he  keeps  a-thinkin'  back  ! 
Old  as  old  men  git  to  be, 
Er  as  middle-aged  as  me, 
Folks'll  find  us,  eye  and  mind 
Fixed  on  what  we've  left  behind  —  • 
Rehabilitatin'-like 
Them  old  times  we  used  to  hike 
Out  barefooted  fer  the  crick, 
'Long  'bout  Aprile  first  —  to  pick 
Out  some  "warmest"  place  to  go 
In  a-swimmin'  —  Ooh!  my-oh! 
Wonder  now  we  hadn't  died  ! 
Grate  horseradish  on  my  hide 
Jes'  a-thinkin'  how  cold  then 
That-'ere  worter  must  'a'  be'n  ! 

Thinkin'  back  —  W'y,  goodness  me! 
I  kin  call  their  names  and  see 
Every  little  tad  I  played 
With,  er  fought,  er  was  afraid 
Of,  and  so  made  him  the  best 
Friend  I  had  of  all  the  rest! 
Thinkin'  back,  I  even  hear 
Them  a-callin',  high  and  clear, 
Up  the  crick-banks,  where  they  seem 
Still  hid  in  there  —  like  a  dream  — 
And  me  still  a-pantin'  on 
The  green  pathway  they  have  gone  ! 


344 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Still  they  hide,  by  bend  er  ford — • 
Still  they  hide— but,  thank  the  Lord 
(Thinkin'  back,  as  I  have  said), 
I  hear  laughin'  on  ahead ! 


The  Raggedy  Man  on  Children 

GHILDERN— take  'em  as  they  run- 
You  kin  bet  on  ev'ry  one ! — 
Treat  'em  right  and  reco'nize 
Human  souls  is  all  one  size. 

Jevver  think? — the  world's  best  men 
Wears  the  same  souls  they  had  when 
They  run  barefoot — 'way  back  where 
All  these  little  children  air. 

Heerd  a  boy,  not  long  ago, 
Say  his  parents  sasscd  him  so. 
He'd  correct  'em,  ef  he  could, — 
Then  be  good  ef  they'd  be  good. 


'Lizabuth-Ann  on  Bakin'-Day 

iljiw  '.<,W;f  /Mff,.-]. 

OUR  Hired  Girl,  when  it's  bakin'-day 
She's  out  o'  patience  allus, 
An*  tells  us  "Hike  outdoors  an'  play, 
An'  when  the  cookies's  done,"  she'll  say, 
"Land  sake !  she'll  come  an'  call  us !" 

345 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An*  when  the  little  doughbowl's  all 
1st  heapin'-full,  she'll  come  an'  call — 

Nen  say,  "She  ruther  take  a  switchin' 
Than  have  a  pack  o'  pesky  childern 

Trackin'  round  the  kitchen  1" 


185  "Mother" 

I'M  gittin'  old— I  know,— 
It  seems  so  long  ago — 
So  long  sence  John  was  here  1 
He  went  so  young ! — our  Jim 
'S  as  old  now  'most  as  him, — 
Close  on  to  thirty  year' ! 

I  know  I'm  gittin'  old — 
I  know  it  by  the  cold, 

From  time  'at  first  frost  flies.— 
Seems  like — sence  John  was  here — 
Winters  is  more  severe ; 

And  winter  I  de-spise ! 

And  j^et  it  seems,  some  days, 
John's  here,  with  his  odd  ways  .  .  . 

Comes  soon-like  from  the  corn- 
Field,  callin'  "Mother"  at 
Me — like  he  called  me  that 

Even  'fore  Jim  was  born! 


346 


THE   HOOSIER    BOOK 

When  Jim  come  —  La  !  how  good 
Was  all  the  neighborhood  !  — 

And  Doctor  !  —  when  I  heerd 
Him  joke  John,  kind  o'  low, 
And  say  :   Yes,  folks  could  go  — 

Pa  needn't  be  afeard  ! 

When  Jim  come,  —  John  says-'e  — 
A-bendin'  over  me 

And  baby  in  the  bed  — 
And  jes'  us  three,  —  says-'e 
"Our  little  family!" 

And  that  was  all  he  said  .  .V1 


And  cried  jes'  like  a  child!  — 
Kissed  me  again,  and  smiled,  — 

'Cause  I  was  cryin'  too. 
And  here  I  am  again 
A-cryin',  same  as  then  — 

Yet  happy  through  and  through  ! 

The  old  home's  most  in  mind 
And  joys  long  left  behind  .  .  . 

Jim's  little  h'istin'  crawl 
Acrost  the  floor  to  where 
John  set  a-rockin'  there  .  .  . 

(I'm  gittin*  old—  That's  all!) 

\  v  --V  «?CM 

I'm  gittin'  old  —  no  doubt  — 

(Healthy  as  all  git-out!)  — 


347 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

But, — strangest  thing  I  do, — 
I  cry  so  easy  now — 
I  cry  jes'  anyhow 

The  fool-tears  wants  me  to ! 

But  Jim  he  won't  be  told 

'At  "Mother"  's  gittin'  old!  .  .  . 

Hugged  me,  he  did,  and  smiled 
This  morning,  and  bragged  "shore" 
He  loved  me  even  more 

Than  when  he  was  a  child ! 

"!  vfiwr.!  t>ltjs!  TriO" 
That's  his  way ;  but  ef  John 
Was  here  now,  lookin'  on, 

He'd  shorely  know  and  see : 
"But,  'Mother,'  "  s'pect  he'd  say, 
"S'pose  you  air  gittin'  gray, 

You're  younger  yet  than  me!" 

— f|-jf{)    fcj;   inii:>    ,*nP£I3-A 

I'm  gittin'  old, — because 

Our  young  days,  like  they  was, 

Keeps  comin'  back — so  clear, 
'At  little  Jim,  once  more, 
Comes  h'istin'  'crost  the  floor ! 

Per  John's  old  rockin'-cheer ! 


O  beautiful! — to  be 
A-gittin'  old,  like  me!  .  .  ^ 

Hey,  Jim!   Come  in  now,  Jim! 
Your  supper's  ready,  dear! 
(How  more,  every  year, 

He  looks  and  acts  like  him!) 

348 


THE   HOOS1ER   BOOK 
186     What  Little  Saul  Got,  Christmas 

US  parents  mostly  thinks  our  own's 
The  smartest  childern  out ! 
But  Widder  Shelton's  little  Saul 

Beats  all  I  know  about ! 
He's  weakly-like — in  p'int  o'  health, 

But  strong  in  word  and  deed 
And  heart  and  head,  and  snap  and  spunk, 
And  allus  in  the  lead ! 

Comes  honest  by  it,  fer  his  Pa — 

Afore  he  passed  away — 
He  was  a  leader — (Lord,  I'd  like 

To  hear  him  preach  to-day!) 
He  led  his  flock ;  he  led  in  prayer 

Fer  spread  o'  Peace — and  when 
Nothin'  but  War  could  spread  it,  he 

Was  first  to  lead  us  then ! 

So  little  Saul  has  grit  to  take 

Things  jes'  as  they  occur; 
And  Sister  Shelton's  proud  o'  him 

As  he  is  proud  o'  her ! 
And  when  she  "got  up" — jes'  fer  him 

And  little  playmates  all- 
A  Chris'mus-tree— they  ever'one 

Was  there  but  little  Saul. 

Pore  little  chap  was  sick  in  bed 
Next  room ;  and  Doc  was  there, 

And  said  the  childern  might  file  past, 
But  go  right  back  to  where 

349 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

The  tree  was,  in  the  settin'-room. 

And  Saul  jes'  laid  and  smiled — 
Ner  couldn't  nod,  ner  wave  his  hand, 

It  hurt  so— Bless  the  child ! 

And  so  they  left  him  there  with  Doc — • 

And  warm  tear  of  his  Ma's  .  .  . 
Then — suddent-like — high  over  all 

Their  laughture  and  applause — 
They  heerd :    "I  don't  care  what  you  git 

On  your  old  Chris'mus-tree, 
'Cause  I'm  got  somepin'  you  all  hain't— 

I'm  got  the  pleurisy  1" 


187  G oldie  Goodwin 

MY  old  Uncle  Sidney  he  says  it's  a  sign 
All  over  the  Worl',  an'  ten  times  out  of  nine, 
He  can  tell  by  the  name  of  a  child  ef  the  same 
Is  a  good  er  bad  youngun — ist  knows  by  their  name ! — 
So  he  says.  "It's  the  vurry  best  sign  in  the  Worl' 
That  Goldie  Goodwin  is  a  good  little  girl," — 
An'  says,  "First  she's  gold — then  she's  good — an'  behold, 
Good's  'bout  '\eventy-hunnerd  times  better  than  gold!''' 

Iv«f  n\""A'j\A  2i:w  Qfirfo  sfttif  -rro'I 


350 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


188  Symptoms 

I'M  not  a-workin'  now! — 
I'm  jes'  a-layin'  round 
A-lettin'  other  people  plow. — 

I'm  cumberin'  the  ground !  .  .  . 
I  jes'  don't  keer! — I've  done  my  sheer 

O'  sweatin' ! — Anyhow, 
In  this  dad-blasted  weather  here, 
I'm  not  a-workin'  now! 

The  corn  and  wheat  and  all 

Is  doin'  well  enough  ! — 
They'  got  clean  on  from  now  tel  Fall 

To  show  what  kind  o'  stuff 
'At's  in  their  own  dad-burn  backbone; 

So,  while  the  Scriptur's  'low 
Man  ort  to  reap  as  he  have  sown — 

I'm  not  a-workin'  now ! 

The  grass  en-nunder  these- 

Here  ellums  'long  "Old  Blue," 
And  shadders  o'  the  sugar-trees, 

Beats  farmin*  quite  a  few ! 
As  feller  says, — I  ruther  guess 

I'll  make  my  comp'ny  bow 
And  snooze  a  few  hours — more  er  less. — 

I'm  not  a-workin'  now ! 

-yrjIS  to}  J'ng£w  Ji  H 
jhov/  oJ  1ry  I 


351 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


289    "Blue-Monday"  at  the  Shoe  Shop 

IN  THE  EARLY   SEVENTIES 

OH,  if  we  had  a  rich  boss 
Who  liked  to  have  us  rest, 
With  a  dime's  lift  for  a  benchmate 

Financially  distressed, — 
A  boss  that's  been  a  "jour."  himself 

And  ain't  forgot  the  pain 
Of  restin'  one  day  in  the  week, 
Then  back  to  work  againe ! 

• — !  ilyiju!!1:?  !!•>//  'jtfofj  ;-.[ 
Chorus 

TiuJ/i  *o  ]jfil;4  }f,ii  //  7/iin'i'  t,»  r 
Ho,  it's  hard  times  together, 

We've  had  'em,  you  and  I, 
In  all  kinds  of  weather, 

Let  it  be  wet  or  dry; 
But  I'm  bound  to  earn  my  livelihood 

Or  lay  me  down  and  die! 

Poverty  compels  me 

To  face  the  snow  and  sleet, — 
For  poor  wife  and  children 

Must  have  a  crust  to  eat. — 
The  sad  wail  of  hunger 

It  would  drive  me  insane, 
If  it  wasn't  for  Blue-Monday 

When  I  git  to  work  againe ! 

352 


THE   HOOS1ER   BOOK 
Chorus 

'  'i&'to  $8$)sPVt 

Ho,  it's  hard  times  together, 
We've  had  'em,  you  and  I, 

In  all  kinds  of  weather, 
Let  it  be  wet  or  dry  ; 

But  I'm  bound  to  earn  my  livelihood 
Or  lay  me  down  and  die! 


Then  it's  stoke  up  the  stove,  Boss, 

And  drive  off  the  damps  : 
Cut  out  me  tops,  Boss, 

And  lend  me  your  clamps  ;  —  • 
Pass  us  your  tobacky 

Till  I  give  me  pipe  a  start.  .V.°- 
Lor',  Boss  !  how  we  love  ye 

For  your  warm  kynd  heart! 

Chorus 

Ho,  it's  hard  times  together, 
We've  had  'cm,  you  and  I  , 

In  all  kinds  of  weather, 
Let  it  be  wet  or  dry; 

But  I'm  bound  to  earn  my  livelihood 
Or  lay  me  down  and  die! 


353 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


190  It's  Got  to  Be 

,t<*M^>t  t*-.wh  b»v>n  *,M't  ,<V\\ 
"TT7HEN  it's  got  to  be,"— like  I  always  say, 

V  V       As  I  notice  the  years  whiz  past, 
And  know  each  day  is  a  yesterday, 

When  we  size  it  up,  at  last, — 
Same  as  I  said  when  my  boyhood  went 

And  I  knowed  we  had  to  quit, — • 
"It's  got  to  be,  and  it's  goin'  to  be  1" — 
So  I  said  "Good-by"  to  it. 

It's  got  to  be,  and  it's  goin'  to  be! 

So  at  least  I  always  try 
To  kind  o'  say  in  a  hearty  way, — • 

"Well,  it's  got  to  be.   Good-by!" 

The  time  just  melts  like  a  late,  last  snow,— 

When  it's  got  to  be,  it  melts! 
But  I  aim  to  keep  a  cheerful  mind, 

Ef  I  can't  keep  nothin'  else ! 
I  knowed,  when  I  come  to  twenty-one, 

That  I'd  soon  be  twenty-two, — 
So  I  waved  one  hand  at  the  soft  young  man, 

And  I  said,  "Good-by  to  you!" 

It's  got  to  be,  and  it's  goin'  to  be! 

So  at  least  I  always  try 
To  kind  o'  say,  in  a  cheerful  way, — 

"Well,  it's  got  to  be.— Good-by !" 


354 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Tliey  kep*  a-goin',  the  years  and  years, 

Yet  still  I  smiled  and  smiled, — 
For  I'd  said  "Good-by"  to  my  single  life, 

And  now  had  a  wife  and  child: 
Mother  and  son  and  the  father — one,— 

Till,  last,  on  her  bed  of  pain, 
She  jes'  smiled  up,  like  she  always  done,— 

And  I  said  "Good-by"  again. 

It's  got  to  be,  and  it's  goin'  to  be! 

So  at  least  I  always  try 
To  kind  o'  say,  in  a  humble  way, — 

"Well,  it's  got  to  be.    Good-by !" 

And  then  my  boy — as  he  growed  to  be 

Almost  a  man  in  size, — 
Was  more  than  a  pride  and  joy  to  me, 

With  his  mother's  smilin'  eyes.— 
He  gimme  the  slip,  when  the  War  broke  out, 

And  followed  me.    And  I 
Never  knowed  till  the  first  fight's  end  .  .  . 

I  found  him,  and  then,  .  .  .  "Good-by." 

It's  got  to  be,  and  it's  goin'  to  be! 

So  at  least  I  always  try 
To  kind  o'  say,  in  a  patient  way, 

"Well,  it's  got  to  be.    Good-by !" 

I  have  said,  "Good-by ! — Good-by ! — Good-by !" 

With  my  very  best  good  will, 
All  through  life  from  the  first, — and  I 
Am  a  Cheerful  old  man  still : 

355 


THE   HOOSIER  BOOK 

But  it's  got  to  end,  and  it's  goin'  to  end ! 

And  this  is  the  thing  I'll  do,— 
With  my  last  breath  I  will  laugh,  O  Death, 

And  say  "Good-by"  to  you!  .  .  . 

It's  got  to  be!   And  again  I  say, — 
When  his  old  scythe  circles  high, 

I'll  laugh — of  course,  in  the  kindest  way, — 
As  I  say  "Good-by! — Good-by!" 


"Ix/f-booO    .yd  oJ  K.\>  ij'ji  ,I!oY/" 

Hoosier  Spring-Poetry 

WHEN  ever'thing's  a-goin'  like  she's  got-a-goin'  now, — 
The   maple-sap    a-drippin',    and   the   buds    on    ever' 

bough 

A-sort  o'  reachin'  up'ards  all  a-trimblin',  ever'  one, 
Like  'bout  a  million  brownie-fists  a-shakin'  at  the  sun  ! 
The  childern  wants  their  shoes  off  'fore  their  breakfast, 

and  the  Spring 

Is  here  so  good-and-plenty  that  the  old  hen  has  to  sing ! — • 
When  things  is  goin'   thisaway,  w'y,  that's  the  sign,  you 

know, 
That  ever'thing's  a-goin'  like  we  like  to  see  her  go ! 

Oh,  ever'thing's  a-goin'  like  we  like  to  see  her  go ! 

Old   Winter's  up  and  dusted,  with  his  dratted   frost  and 

snow — 

The  ice  is  out  the  crick  ag'in,  the  freeze  is  out  the  ground, 
And  you'll  see  faces  thawin'  too  ef  you'll  jes'  look  around  ! — 

356 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

The   bluebird's    landin'   home    ag'in,    and   glad    to    git   the 

chance, 
'Cause  here's  where  he  belongs  at,  that's  a  settled  circum 

stance  ! 

And  him  and  mister  robin  now's  a-chunin'  fer  the  show. 
Oh,  ever'thing's  a-goin'  like  we  like  to  see  her  go  ! 

The    sun    ain't    jes'   p'tendin'    now!  —  The    ba'm    is    in    the 

breeze  —  • 
The  trees'll  soon  be  green  as  grass,  and  grass  as  green  as 

trees  ; 

The  buds  is  all  jes'  eechin',  and  the  dogwood  down  the  run 
Is  bound  to  bu'st  out  laughin'  'fore  another  week  is  done  ; 
The  bees  is  wakin',  gap'y-like,  and  fnmblin'  fer  their  buzz, 
A-thinkin',  ever-wakefuler,  of  other  days  that  wuz,  — 
When  all  the  land  wuz  orchard-blooms  and  clover,  don't 
'  you  know.  .  .  . 

Oh,  ever'thing's  a-goin'  like  we  like  to  see  her  go! 


192  Bub  Says 

r  I^HE  moon  in  the  sky  is  a  custard-pie, 
-L  An'  the  clouds  is  the  cream  pour'd  o'er  it, 
An*  all  o'  the  glittering  stars  in  the  sky 
Is  the  powdered-sugar  for  it. 

Johnts  —  he's  proudest  boy  in  town  — 
'Cause  his  Mommy  she  cut  down 
His  Pa's  pants  fer  Johnts  —  an'  there 
Is  'nuff  left  fer  'nother  pair! 


357 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

One  time,  when  her  Ma  was  gone, 
Little  Elsie  she  put  on 
All  her  Ma's  fine  clothes — an'  black 
Grow-grain-silk,  an'  sealskin-sack ; 
Nen  while  she  wuz  flouncin'  out 
In  the  hall  an'  round  about, 
Some  one  knocked,  an'  Elsie  she 
Clean  forgot  an'  run  to  see 
Who's  there  at  the  door — an'  saw 
Mighty  quick  it  wuz  her  Ma. 
But  ef  she  ain't  saw  at  all, 
She'd  a-knowed  her  parasol! 

fl  *•>}  'mtcfim?  b'!B^I--fqj:3  *rri :kv/  ? 
Gran'pas  an'  Gran'mas  is  funniest  folks ! — • 
Don't  be  jolly,  ner  tell  no  jokes, 
Tell  o'  the  weather  an'  frost  an'  snow 
O'  that  cold  New  Year's  o'  long-ago ; 
An'  then  they  sigh  at  each  other  an'  cough 
An*  talk  about  suddently  droppin'  off. 


«m  i'lfvl  et>irob-9fft  *nA 
Perversity 


T 


YOU  have  more'n  likely  noticed, 
When  you  didn't  when  you  could. 
That  jes'  the  thing  you  didn't  do 
Was  jes'  the  thing  you  should. 


358 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


Name  Us  no  Names  no  More 


SIXG,  oh,  rarest  of  roundelays  !  — 
Sing  the  hilarity  and  delight 

Of  our  childhood's  gurgling,  giggling  days! 
When  our  eyes  were  as  twinkling-keen  and  bright 
And  our  laughs  as  thick  as  the  stars  at  night, 

And  our  breasts  volcanoes  of  pent  hoo-rays  ! 
When  we  grouped  together  in  secret  mirth 
And  sniggered  at  everything  on  earth  — 
But  specially  when  strange  visitors  came 
And  we  learned,  for  instance,  that  their  name 

was  Fishback  —  or  Mothershead  —  or  Philpott  — 

or  Dalrymple  —  or  Fullenwider  —  or  Applewhite  — 

or  Hunnicutt  —  or  Tubbs  —  or  Oldshoe  ! 
"'Oldshoe!'  —  jcminy-jce!"  thinks  we  — 
"Hain't  that  a  funny  name!  —  tee-hee-hee!" 

-JO-  -11>  21  £!"["/  TH     10.  ____  rlj.e'>-t(fi£r)     "JO  _  JOOITT^ 

Barefoot  racers  from  everywhere, 

We'd  pelt  in  over  the  back  porch  floor 
For  "the  settin'-room,"  and  cluster  there 
Like  a  clot  of  bees  round  an  apple-core, 
And  sleeve  our  noses,  and  pinafore 
Our  smearcase-mouths,  and  slick  our  hair, 
And  stare  and  listen,  and  try  to  look 
Like  "Agnes"  does  in  the  old  school-book,  — 
Till  at  last  we'd  catch  the  visitor's  name,  — 
Redinhouse,  Lippscomb,  or  Burlingame,  — 
or  Winkler  —  or  Smock  —  or  Tutewiler  —  or 
Daubenspeck  —  or  Throckmorton  —  or  Rubottom 
—  or  Bixler  — 


359 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

"'Bi.rler!'  jcmlny-jce!"  thinks  we  — 
"Hain't  that  a  funny  name!  —  tcc-hee-hcc!" 

Peace  !—  Let  be  !—  Fall  away  !—  Fetch  loose  !— 

We  can't  have  fun  as  we  had  fun  then!  — 
Shut  up,  Memory  !  —  what's  the  use  ?  — 
When  the  girls  and  boys  of  8  and  10 
Are  now  —  well,  matronly,  or  old  men, 
And  Time  has  (so  to  say)  "cooked  our  goose!" 
But  ah  !  if  we  only  could  have  back 
The  long-lost  laughs  that  we  now  so  lack 
And  so  vainly  long  for,  —  how  —  we  —  could 
Naturely  wake  up  the  neigh-ber-/wod, 
over  the   still  heterogenious  names   ever  un 
rolling  from  the  endless  roster  of  ortho 
graphic  actualities,  —  such  names  —  for  fur 
ther  instance  of  good  faith  —  simply  such 
names  as  Vanderlip  —  or  Funkhouser  —  or 
Smoot  —  or  Galbreath  —  or  Frybarger  —  or 
Dinwiddie  —  or  Bouslog  —  or  Puterbaugh  — 
or  Longnecker  —  or  Hartpence  —  or  Wig 
gins  —  or  Pangborn  —  or  Bowersox  — 
"Bowersox"!    Gee  I  —  Bui  alas!  now  we 
Taste  salt  tears  in  our  "tee-hee-hee"! 


oJ  ^i*  bfiS:tfiS>j 
—  ,>Iood-IooflD2  bio  ail!  ni  s 


jo-—  :orn 
duH  io~~  no)  •tomifooiif  T 


360 


3HT 


POEMS  HERE  AT  HOME 


/P5         77i*  Poems  Here  at  Home 

THE  Poems  here  at  Home  ! — Who'll  write  'em  down, 
Jes'  as  they  air — in  Country  and  in  Town  ? 
Sowed  thick  as  clods  is  'crost  the  fields  and  lanes, 
Er  these-'ere  little  hop-toads  when  it  rains ! — 
Who'll  "voice"  'em?  as  I  heerd  a  feller  say 
'At  speechified  on  Freedom,  t'other  day, 
And  soared  the  Eagle  tel,  it  'peared  to  me, 

She  wasn't  bigger'n  a  bumble-bee ! 

'  tfjo:>' — nornrmn  8iJO3§siJuO 

Who'll  sort  'em  out  and  set  'em  down,  says  I, 
'At's  got  a  stiddy  hand  enough  to  try 
To  do  'em  jestice  'thout  a-foolin'  some, 
And  headin'  facts  off  when  they  want  to  come? — 
Who's  got  the  lovin'  eye,  and  heart,  and  brain 
To  reco'nize  'at  nothin's  made  in  vain — 
'At  the  Good  Bein'  made  the  bees  and  birds 
And  brutes  first  choice,  and  us-folks  afterwards? 


ITTO  T  A 


,          .. 
What  We  want,  as  I  sense  it,  in  the  line 

O'  poetry  is  somepin'  Yours  and  Mine — 

Somepin'  with  live  stock  in  it,  and  out-doors, 

And  old  crick -bottoms,  snags,  and  sycamores : 

Putt  weeds  in — pizen-vines,  and  underbresh, 

As  well  as  johnny-jump-ups,  all  so  fresh 

And  sassy-like  ! — and  groun'-squir'ls, — yes,  and  "We," 

As  sayin'  is, — "We,  Us  and  Company!" 

361 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Putt  in  old  Nature's  sermonts, — them's  the  best, — 

And  'casion'ly  hang  up  a  hornets'  nest 

'At  boys  'at's  run  away  from  school  can  git 

At  handy-like — and  let  'em  tackle  it ! 

Let  us  be  wrought  on,  of  a  truth,  to  feel 

Our  proneness  fer  to  hurt  more  than  we  heal, 

In  ministratin'  to  our  vain  delights — 

Fergittin'  even  insec's  has  their  rights! 

No  "Ladies'  Amaranth,"  ner  "Treasury"  book — 

Ner  "Night  Thoughts,"  nuther — ner  no  "Lally  Rook" ! 

We  want  some  poetry  'at's  to  Our  taste, 

Made  out  o'  truck  'at's  jes'  a-goin'  to  waste 

'Cause  smart  folks  thinks  it's  altogether  too 

Outrageous  common — 'cept  fer  me  and  you ! — 

Which  goes  to  argy,  all  sich  poetry 

Is  'bliged  to  rest  its  hopes  on  You  and  Me. 


196  Nothin'  to  Say 

NOTHIN'  to  say,  my  daughter!    Nothin'  at  all  to  say! 
Gyrls  that's  in  love,   I've  noticed,  giner'ly  has  their 

way! 

Yer  mother  did,  afore  you,  when  her  folks  objected  to  me— 
Yit  here  I  am  and  here  you  air !  and  yer  mother — where  is 
she? 

You  look  lots  like  yer  mother :  purty  much  same  in  size ; 
And  about  the  same  complected ;  and  favor  about  the  eyes : 
Like  her,  too,  about  livin'  here,  because  she  couldn't  stay  ; 
It'll  'most  seem  like  you  was  dead  like  her! — but  I  hain't 
got  nothin'  to  say! 

362 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

She  left  you  her   little   Bible — writ  yer   name   acrost   the 

page— 

And  left  her  ear-bobs  fer  you,  ef  ever  you  come  of  age ; 
I've   alluz   kep'   'em  and  gyuarded   'em,   but   ef   yer   goin' 

away — 
Nothin'  to  say,  my  daughter !    Nothin'  at  all  to  say ! 

You  don't  rickollect  her,  I  reckon  ?    No ;  you  wasn't  a  year 

old  then ! 
And  now  yer — how  old  air  you?    W'y,  child,  not  "twenty"! 

When? 
And  yer  nex'  birthday's  in  Aprile?  and  you  want  to  git 

married  that  day? 
I  wisht  yer  mother  was  livin' ! — but  I  hain't  got  nothin'  to 

say! 

Twenty  year !  and  as  good  a  gyrl  as  parent  ever  found  ! 
There's  a  straw  ketched  on  to  yer  dress  there — I'll  bresh  it 

off — turn  round. 

(Her  mother  was  jes'  twenty  when  us  two  run  away.) 
Nothin'  to  say,  my  daughter !     Nothin'  at  all  to  say ! 


The  Absence  of  Little  Wesley 


SENCE    little   Wesley    went,    the    place    seems    all    so 
strange  and  still— 
W'y,  I  miss  his  yell  o'  "Gran'pap  !"  as  I'd  miss  the  whip 

perwill  ! 

And  to  think  I  ust  to  scold  him  fer  his  everlastin'  noise, 
When  I  on'y  rickollect  him  as  the  best  o'  little  boys  ! 

363 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

I  wisht  a  hunderd  times  a  day  'at  he'd  come  trompin*  in, 
And  all  the  noise  he  ever  made  was  twic't  as  loud  ag'in ! — • 
It  'u'd  seem  like  some  soft  music  played  on  some  fine  in 
strument, 

'Longside  o'  this   loud   lonesomeness,   sence   little  Wesley 
went  1 

Of  course  the  clock  don't  tick  no  louder  than  it  ust  to  do— 
Yit  now  they's  times  it  'pears  like  it  'u'd  bu'st  itse'f  in  two ! 
And  let  a  rooster,  suddent-like,  crow  som'ers  clos't  around, 
And  seems's  ef,  mighty  nigh  it,  it  'u'd  lift  me  off  the 

ground ! 
And  same  with  all  the  cattle  when  they  bawl  around  the 

bars, 

In  the  red  o*  airly  morning,  er  the  dusk  and  dew  and  stars, 
When  the  neighbers'  boys  'at  passes  never  stop,  but  jes* 

go  on, 
A-whistlin'    kind    o'    to    theirse'v's — sence    little    Wesley's 

gone ! 


And  then,  o'  nights,  when  Mother's  settin'  up  oncommon 

late, 

A-bilin'  pears  er  somepin',  and  I  set  and  smoke  and  wait, 
Tel  the  moon  out  through  the  winder  don't  look  bigger'n  a 

dime, 
And    things    keeps    gittin'    stiller — stiller — stiller    all    the 

time, — 

I've  ketched  myse'f  a-wishin'  like — as  I  dumb  on  the  cheer 
To  wind  the  clock,  as  I  hev  done  fer  more'n  fifty  year — 
A-wishin'  'at  the  time  lied  come  fer  us  to  go  to  bed, 
With  our  last  prayers,  and  our  last  tears,  sence  little  Wes 
ley's  dead ! 

364 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


198  At  "The  Literary' 

FOLKS  in  town,  I  reckon,  thinks 
They  git  all  the  fun  they  air 
Runnin'  loose  'round! — but,  'y  jinks! 
We*  got  fun,  and  fun  to  spare, 
Right  out  here  amongst  the  ash- 
And  oak-timber  ever'where ! 
Some  folks  else  kin  cut  a  dash 
'Sides  town-people,  don't  fergit ! — 
'Specially  in  winter-time, 
When  they's  snow,  and  roads  is  fit. 
In  them  circumstances  I'm 
Resig-nated  to  my  lot — 
Which  putts  me  in  mind  o'  what 

'S  called  "The  Literary." 
"IIR\  £  a'oa— 'Sbn5"%D  x?riT 
Us  folks  in  the  country  sees 
Lots  o'  fun  ! — Take  spellin'-school ; 
Er  ole  hoe-down  jamborees; 
Er  revivals ;  er  ef  you'll 
Tackle  taffy-pullin's  you 
Kin  git  fun,  and  quite  a  few! — 
Same  with  huskin's.     But  all  these 
Kind  o'  frolics  they  hain't  new 
By  a  hunderd  year'  er  two, 
Cipher  on  it  as  you  please ! 
But  I'll  tell  you  what  I  jest 
Think  walks  over  all  the  rest — 
Anyway  it  suits  me  best, — 

That's  "The  Literary." 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

First  they  started  it — "  'y  gee  !" 
Thinks-says-I,  "this  settle-ment 
'S  gittin'  too  high-toned  fer  me !" 
But  when  all  begin  to  jine, 
And  I  heerd  Izory  went, 
I  jest  kind  o'.  drapped  in  line, 
Like  you've  seen  some  sandy,  thin, 
Scrawny  shoat  putt  fer  the  crick 
Down  some  pig-trail  through  the  thick 
Spice-bresh,  where  the  whole  drove's  been 
'Bout  six  weeks  'fore  he  gits  in ! — 
"Can't  tell  nothin',"  I-says-ee, 
"  'Bout  it  tel  you  go  and  see 
Their  blame  'Literary'  1" 

Very  first  night  I  was  there 
I  was  'p'inted  to  be  what 
They  call  "Critic" — so's  a  fair 
And  square  jedgment  could  be  got 
On  the  pieces  'at  was  read, 
And  on  the  debate, — "Which  air 
Most  destructive  element, 
Fire  er  worter  ?"    Then  they  hed 
Compositions  on  "Content," 
"Death,"  and  "Botany" ;  and  Tomps 
He  read  one  on  "Dreenin'  Swamps" 
I  p'nounced  the  boss,  and  said, 
"So  fur,  'at's  the  best  thing  read 
In  yer  'Literary'!" 


366 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Then  they  sung  some — tel  I  called 
Order,  and  got  back  ag'in 
In  the  critic's  cheer,  and  hauled 
All  o'  the  p'formers  in  : — 
Mandy  Brizendine  read  one 
I  f ergit ;  and  Doc's  was  "Thought" ; 
And  Sarepty's,  hern  was  "None 
Air  Denied  'at  Knocks";  and  Daut— • 
Fayette  Strawnse's  little  niece — 
She  got  up  and  spoke  a  piece : 
Then  Tzory  she  read  hern — 
"Best  thing  in  the  whole  concern," 
I-says-ee ;  "now  le'  's  adjourn 
This-here  'Literary' !" 

They  was  some  contendin' — yit 
We  broke  up  in  harmony. 
Road  outside  as  white  as  grit, 
And  as  slick  as  slick  could  be  !— 
I'd  fetched  'Zory  in  my  sleigh,— 
And  I  had  a  heap  to  say, 
Drivin'  back — in  fact,  I  driv 
'Way  around  the  old  north  way, 
Where  the  Daubenspeckses  live. 
'Zory  allus — 'fore  that  night — 
Never  'peared  to  feel  jest  right 

T  ^7 

In  my  company. — You  see, 
On'y  thing  on  earth  saved  me 
Was  that  "Literary" ! 

)  'mog  TjriJtn-e  is— nov  'ifoj  «M  '*«i«»a  ?.&'»  T  J»fT 
iin  'm.'nud  ?,££  :  won  'n'r/if  /9ff  v/orl  nov  IbJ  'o'f 

367 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

h?Il£3  1  bi -9mo2  ^mi  VisrfJ  no.dT 
Dozvn  to  the  Capital 

I'  BE'N  down  to  the  Capital  at  Washington,  D.  C, 
Where  Congerss  meets  and  passes  on  the  pensions  ort 

to  be 

Allowed  to  old  one-legged  chaps,  like  me,  'at  sence  the  war 
Don't  wear  their  pants  in  pairs  at  all — and  yit  how  proud 
we  are! 

Old  Flukens,  from  our  deestrick,  jes'  turned  in  and  tuck 

and  made 
Me  sta}'  with  him  whilse  I  was  there;  and  longer  'at  I 

stayed 

The  more  I  kep*  a-wantin'  jes'  to  kind  o'  git  away, 
And  yit  a-f  eelin'  sociabler  with  Flukens  ever'  day. 

You  see  I'd  got  the  idy — and  I  guess  most  folks  agrees — 
'At  men  as  rich  as  him,  you  know,  kin  do  jes'  what  they 

please ; 

A  man  worth  stacks  o'  money,  and  a  Congerssman  and  all, 
And  livin'  in  a  buildin'  bigger'n  Masonic  Hall ! 

Now  mind,  I'm  not  a-faultin'  Fluke — he  made  his  money 
square : 

We  both  was  Forty-niners,  and  both  bu'sted  gittin'  there ; 

I  weakened  and  onwindlassed,  and  he  stuck  and  stayed  and 
made 

His  millions ;  don't  know  what  I'm  worth  untel  my  pen 
sion's  paid. 

But  I  was  goin'  to  tell  you — er  a-ruther  goin'  to  try 
To  tell  you  how  he's  livin'  now :  gas  burnin'  mighty  nigh 


THE   HOOSIKR   BOOK 

In  ever*  room  about  the  house ;  and  ever'  night  about, 
Some  blame  reception  goin'  on,  and  money  goin'  out. 

They's  people  there  from  all  the  world — jes'  ever'  kind  'at 
lives, 

Injuns  and  all!  and  Senaters,  and  Ripresentatives ; 

And  girls,  you  know,  jes'  dressed  in  gauze  and  roses  I 
declare, 

And  even  old  men  shamblin'  round  and  a-waltzin'  with  'em 

there ! 
!vf  p*  Jair  I  Jfirfw  l>nc — rri£  1  Jjjd//  hii£ — me  I  tJi^rfv/  ev/oii/I 

And  bands  a-tootin'  circus-tunes,  'way  in  some  other  room 

Jes'  chokin'  full  o'  hothouse  plants  and  pinies  and  per 
fume  ; 

And  fountains,  squirtin'  stiddy  all  the  time;  and  statutes, 
made 

Out  o'  puore  marble,  'peared-like,  sneakin'  round  there  in 

the  shade. 
;?.ino  lo  sir!  b-x>nq-<i^ifl  ai^irfj  tU;nJ\iVu>  *«t>i  Us  rtl" 

And  Fluke  he  coaxed  and  begged  and  pled  with  me  to  tak* 
a  hand 

And  sashay  in  amongst  'em — crutch  and  all,  you  under 
stand  ; 

But  when  I  said  how  tired  I  was,  and  made  fer  open  air, 

He  follered,  and  tel  five  o'clock  we  set  a-talkin'  there. 


"My  God!"  says  he — Fluke  says  to  me,  "I'm  tireder'n  you; 
Don't  putt  up  yer  tobacker  tel  you  give  a  man  a  chew. 
Set  back  a  leetle  f urder  in  the  shadder — that'll  do ; 

T»  x-         J         »  ^"H      •'  T»  A-  J      '•}      S     '- 

I  m  tireder  n  you,  old  man  ;  I  m  tireder  n  you. 


369 


THE   HOOSIER  BOOK 

"You  see  that-air  old  dome/'  says  he,  "humped  up  ag'inst 

the  sky? 

It's  grand,  first  time  you  see  it ;  but  it  changes,  by  and  by, 
And  then  it  stays  jes'  thataway — jes'  anchored  high  and  dry 
Betwixt  the  sky  up  yender  and  the  achin'  of  yer  eye. 

"Night's  purty ;  not  so  purty,  though,  as  what  it  ust  to  be 
When  my  first  wife  was  livin'.     You  remember  her?"  says 

he. 

I  nodded-like,  and  Fluke  went  on,  "I  wonder  now  ef  she 
Knows  where  I  am — and  what  I  am — and  what  I  ust  to  be  ? 

"That  band   in  there! — I  ust  to  think  'at  music  couldn't 

wear 

A  feller  out  the  way  it  does ;  but  that  ain't  music  there — 
That's  jes'  a'  imitation,  and  like  ever'thing,  I  swear, 
I  hear,  er  see,  er  tetch,  er  taste,  er  tackle  anywhere ! 

"It's  all  jes'  artificial,  this-'ere  high-priced  life  of  ours; 
The  theory,  it's  sweet  enough,  tel  it  saps  down  and  sours. 
They's  no  home  left,  ner  ties  o'  home  about  it.     By  the 

powers, 
The  whole  thing's  artificialer'n  artificial  flowers ! 

"And  all  I  want,  and  could  lay  down  and  sob  fer,  is  to 

know 

The  homely  things  of  homely  life;  fer  instance,  jes'  to  go 
And  set  down  by  the  kitchen  stove — Lord !  that  'u'd  rest  me 

so, — 
Jes'  set  there,  like  I  ust  to  do,  and  laugh  and  joke,  you 

know. 


370 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

"Jes*  set  there,  like  I  ust  to  do,"  says  Fluke,  a-startin'  in, 
'Peared-like,  to  say  the  whole  thing  over  to  hisse'f  ag'in ; 
Then  stopped  and  turned,  and  kind  o'  coughed,  and  stooped 

and  fumbled  fer 
Somepin'  o'  'nuther  in  the  grass — I  guess  his  handkercher. 

Well,  sence  I'm  back  from  Washington,  where  I  left  Fluke 

a-still 

A-leggin'  fer  me,  heart  and  soul,  on  that-air  pension  bill, 
I've  half-way  struck  the  notion,  when  I  think  o'  wealth  and 

sich, 
They's  nothin'  much  patheticker'n  jes'  a-bein'  rich! 


200  The  Old  Man  and  Jim 

OLD  man  never  had  much  to  say — 
'Ceptin'  to  Jim,— 
And  Jim  was  the  wildest  boy  he  had — 

And  the  old  man  jes'  wrapped  up  in  him! 
Never  heerd  him  speak  but  once 
Er  twice  in  my  life, — and  first  time  was 
When  the  army  broke  out,  and  Jim  he  went, 
The  old  man  backin'  him,  fer  three  months ; 
And  all  'at  I  heerd  the  old  man  say 
Was,  jes'  as  we  turned  to  start  away, — 

«(\ir    11  1    i  T- 

Well,  good-by,  Jim : 

rn    i         t  r  ,r  •„ 

Take  keer  of  yourself 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Teared-like,  he  was  more  satisfied 

Jes'  lookin'  at  Jim 
And  likin'  him  all  to  hisse'f-like,  see?— 

'Cause  he  was  jes'  wrapped  up  in  him ! 
And  over  and  over  I  mind  the  day 
The  old  man  come  and  stood  round  in  the  wa\ 
While  we  was  drillin',  a-watchin'  Jim— 
And  down  at  the  deepo  a-heerin'  him  say, 

"Well,  good-by,  Jim : 
Take  keer  of  yourse'f !" 

Never  was  nothin'  about  the  farm 

Disting'ished  Jim; 
Neighbors  all  ust  to  wonder  why 

The  old  man  'peared  wrapped  up  in  him : 
But  when  Cap.  Biggler  he  writ  back 
'At  Jim  was  the  bravest  boy  we  had 
In  the  whole  dern  rigiment,  white  er  black, 
And  his  fightin'  good  as  his  farmin'  bad— 
'At  he  had  led,  with  a  bullet  clean 
Bored  through  his  thigh,  and  carried  the  flag 
Through  the  bloodiest  battle  you  ever  seen,— 
The  old  man  wound  up  a  letter  to  him 
'At  Cap.  read  to  us,  'at  said :   "Tell  Jim 

Good-by, 

And  take  keer  of  hisse'f." 

Jim  come  home  jes'  long  enough 

To  take  the  whim 
'At  he'd  like  to  go  back  in  the  calvery — 

And  the  old  man  jes'  wrapped  up  in  him! 


372 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Jim  'lowed  'at  he'd  had  sich  luck  afore, 
Guessed  he'd  tackle  her  three  years  more. 
And  the  old  man  give  him  a  colt  he'd  raised. 
And  follered  him  over  to  Camp  Ben  Wade, 
And  laid  around  fer  a  week  er  so, 
Watchin'  Jim  on  dress-parade — 
Tel  finally  he  rid  away, 
And  last  he  heerd  was  the  old  man  say, — 
"Well,  good-by,  Jim : 
Take  keer  of  yourse'f !" 

Tuk  the  papers,  the  old  man  did, 

A-watchin'  fer  Jim — 
Fully  believin'  he'd  make  his  mark 

Some  way — jes'  wrapped  up  in  him! — • 
And  many  a  time  the  word  Vd  come 
'At  stirred  him  up  like  the  tap  of  a  drum — 
At  Petersburg,  fer  instunce,  where 
Jim  rid  right  into  their  cannons  there, 
And  tuk  'em,  and  p'inted  'em  t'other  way, 
And  socked  it  home  to  the  boys  in  gray 
As  they  scooted  fer  timber,  and  on  and  on — 
Jim  a  lieutenant,  and  one  arm  gone, 
And  the  old  man's  words  in  his  mind  all  day,— •• 

"Well,  good-by,  Jim : 
Take  keer  of  yourse'f !" 

Think  of  a  private,  now,  perhaps, 

We'll  say  like  Jim, 
'At's  dumb  clean  up  to  the  shoulder-straps — 

And  the  old  man  jes'  wrapped  up  in  him! 


373 


THE   HOOS1ER   BOOK 

Think  of  him — with  the  war  plum'  through^ 
And  the  glorious  old  Red-White-and-Blue 
A-laughin'  the  news  down  over  Jim, 
And  the  old  man,  bendin'  over  him — 
The  surgeon  turnin'  away  with  tears 
'At  hadn't  leaked  f er  years  and  years, 
As  the  hand  of  the  dyin'  boy  clung  to 
His  father's,  the  old  voice  in  his  ears,— 
"Well,  good-by,  Jim : 
Take  keer  of  yourse'f  1" 


2or          Thoughts  on  the  Late  War 

I    WAS  for  Union — you,  ag'in'  it. 
Tears  like,  to  me,  each  side  was  winner. 
Lookin'  at  now  and  all  'at's  in  it. 

Le'  's  go  to  dinner. 
Trr-.ttcrtyiK  no  bin;  .tofimij  i^Jp^Jocpa  ^?fu  zA 

Le'  's  kind  o'  jes'  set  down  together 
And  do  some  pardnership  forgittin' — 
Talk,  say,  for  instunce,  'bout  the  weather, 
Or  somepin'  fittin'. 

The  war,  you  know,  's  all  done  and  ended, 
And  ain't  changed  no  p'ints  o'  the  compass ; 
Both  North  and  South  the  health's  jes'  splendid 
As  'fore  the  rumpus. 


374 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

The  old  farms  and  the  old  plantations 
Still  ockipies  the'r  old  positions. 
Le'  's  git  back  to  old  situations 
And  old  ambitions. 

Le'  's  let  up  on  this  blame',  infernal 
Tongue-lashin'  and  lap-jacket  vauntin', 
And  git  back  home  to  the  eternal 
Ca'm  we're  a-wantin'. 

Peace  kind  o'  sort  o'  suits  my  diet — 
When  women  does  my  cookin'  for  me; 
Ther'  wasn't  overly  much  pie  et 
Dunn'  the  army. 


202  The  Old  Band 

IT'S  mighty  good  to  git  back  to  the  old  town,  shore, 
Considerin'   I've  be'n   away   twenty  year   and   more. 
Sence  I  moved  then  to  Kansas,  of  course  I  see  a  change 
A-comin'  back,   and   notice  things   that's  new   to   me   and 

strange ; 

Especially  at  evening  when  yer  new  band-fellers  meet, 
In   fancy  uniforms  and  all,  and  play  out  on  the  street — 
.    .     .    What's  come  of  old  Bill  Lindsey  and  the  Saxhorn 
fellers — say? 

I  want  to  hear  the  old  band  play. 


375 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

What's  come  of  Eastman,  and  Nat  Snow?     And  where's 

War  Barnett  at? 
And  Nate  and  Bony  Meek;  Bill  Hart;  Tom  Richa'son  and 

that 
Air  brother  of  him  played  the  drum  as  twic't  as  big  as 

Jim ; 
And  old  Hi  Kerns,  the  carpenter — say,  what's  become  o' 

him? 
I    make   no    doubt   yer    new   band   now's    a    compctenter 

band) 
And  plays  their  music  more  by  note  than  what  they  play 

by  hand, 

And    stylisher    and    grander    tunes;    but    somehow — any 
way, 

I  want  to  hear  the  old  band  play. 

Sich  tunes  as  "John  Brown's  Body"  and  "Sweet  Alice." 

don't  you  know ; 
And    "The    Camels    Is   A-Comin',"   and   "John   Anderson, 

My  Jo" ; 
And     a     dozent     others     of     'em — "Number     Nine"     and 

"Number  'Leven" 
Was     tavo-rites    that    fairly    made    a    feller    dream    o' 

Heaven. 
And   when   the   boys   'u'd   saranade,    I've   laid    so    still    in 

bed 

I've  even  heerd  the  locus'-blossoms  droppin'  on  the  shed 
When  "Lily  Dale,"  er  "Hazel  Dell,"  had  sobbed  and  died 

away — 

.    .     .     I  want  to  hear  the  old  band  play. 


376 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Ver  new  band  ma'by  beats  it,  but  the  old  band's  what  I 

said — 
It   allus   'peared   to   kind   o'   chord   with    somepin'   in    my 

head; 
And,    whilse    I'm    no    musicianer,    when    my   blame*    eyes 

is  jes' 
Nigh  drownded  out,   and   Mem'ry  squares  her  jaws   and 

sort  o'  says 

She  won't  ner  never  will  fergit,  I  want  to  jes'  turn  in 
And  take  and  light  right  out  o'  here  and  git  back  West 

ag'in 
And  stay  there,  when  I  git  there,  where  I  never  haf  to 

say 

I  want  to  hear  the  old  band  play. 


2O$       "Last  Christmas  Was  a  Year 

Ago" 
,To  frjv/uiul -afl  gequ  7:?T\o  oT 

THE  OLD  LADY  SPEAKS 

L^-ST  Christmas  was  a  year  ago, 
Says  I  to  David,  I-says-I, 
"We're  goin'  to  morning  service,  so 
You  hitch  up  right  away :  I'll  try 
To  tell  the  girls  jes'  what  to  do 
Per  dinner.— We'll  be  back  by  two." 
I  didn't  wait  to  hear  what  he 
Would  more'n  like  say  back  to  me, 
But  banged  the  stable  door  and  flev/ 
Back  to  the  house,  jes'  plumb  chilled  through. 
377 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Cold!     Wooh!  how  cold  it  was !    My-oh! 

Frost  flyin',  and  the  air,  you  know, 

"Jes'  sharp  enough,"  heerd  David  swear, 

"To  shave  a  man  and  cut  his  hair !" 

And  blow  and  blow  !  and  snow  and  snow ! — 

Where  it  had  drifted  'long  the  fence 

And  'crost  the  road, — some  places,  though, 

Jes'  swep'  clean  to  the  gravel,  so 

The  goin'  was  as  bad  fer  sleighs 

As  'twas  fer  wagons, — and  both  ways, 

'Twixt  snow-drifts  and  the  bare  ground,  I've 

Jes'  wundered  we  got  through  alive ; 

I  hain't  saw  nothin',  'fore  er  sence, 

'At  beat  it  anywheres,  I  know — 

Last  Christmas  was  a  year  ago. 

And  David  said,  as  we  set  out, 

'At  Christmas  services  was  'bout 

As  cold  and  wuthless  kind  o'  love 

To  offer  up  as  he  knowed  of  ; 

And  as  fer  him,  he  railly  thought 

'At  the  Good  Bein'  up  above 

Would  think  more  of  us — as  He  ought — • 

A-stayin*  home  on  sich  a  day, 

And  thankin'  of  Him  thataway! 

And  jawed  on,  in  an  undertone, 

'Bout  leayin'  Lide  and  Jane  alone 

There  on  the  place,  and  me  not  there 

To  oversee  'em,  and  p'pare 

The  stuffin'  fer  the  turkey,  and 

The  sass  and  all,  you  understand. 


378 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

I've  allus  managed  David  by 

Jes'  sayin'  no  thin'.    That  was  why 

He'd  chased  Lide's  beau  away — 'cause  Lide 

She'd  allus  take  up  Perry's  side 

When  David  tackled  him ;  and  so, 

Last  Christmas  was  a  year  ago, — 

Er  ruther,  'bout  a  u'eek  afore, — 

David  and  Perry'd  quarr'l'd  about 

Some  torn-fool  argyment,  you  know, 

And  Pap  told  him  to  "Jes'  git  out 

O'  there,  and  not  to  come  no  more, 

And,  when  he  went,  to  shet  the  door !" 

And  as  he  passed  the  winder,  we 

Saw  Perry,  white  as  white  could  be, 

March  past,  onhitch  his  hoss,  and  light 

A  see-gyar,  and  lope  out  o'  sight. 

Then  Lide  she  come  to  me  and  cried ! 

And  I  said  nothin* — was  no  need. 

And  yit,  you  know,  that  man  jes'  got 

Right  out  o'  there's  ef  he'd  be'n  shot, 

P'tendin'  he  must  go  and  feed 

The  stock  er  somepin'.    Then  I  tried 

To  git  the  pore  girl  pacified. 

But,  gittin*  back  to — where  was  we? — 
Oh,  yes ! — where  David  lectered  me 
All  way  to  meetin',  high  and  low, 
Last  Christmas  was  a  year  ago : 
Fer  all  the  awful  cold,  they  was 
A  fair  attendunce ;  mostly,  though, 
The  crowd  was  'round  the  stoves,  you  see, 
Thawin'  their  heels  and  scrougin'  us. 


379 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Ef  't  'adn't  be'n  fer  the  old  Squire 

Givin'  his  seat  to  us,  as  in 

We  stomped,  a-fairly  perishin', 

And  David  could  'a'  got  no  fire, 

He'd  jes'  'a'  drapped  there  in  his  tracks: 

And  Squire,  as  I  was  tryin'  to  yit 

Make  room  fer  him,  says,  "No ;  the  f ac's 

Is,  /  got  to  git  up  and  git 

'Ithout  no  preachin'.    Jes'  got  word — • 

Trial  fer  life— can't  be  deferred  !" 

And  out  he  putt ! 

And  all  way  through 

The  sermont — and  a  long  one,  too — • 
I  couldn't  he'p  but  think  o'  Squire 
And  us  changed  round  so,  and  admire 
His  gintle  ways, — to  give  his  warm 
Bench  up,  and  have  to  face  the  storm. 
And  when  I  noticed  David  he 
Was  needin'  jabbin' — I  thought  best 
To  kind  o'  sort  o'  let  him  rest : 
'Peared-like  he  slep'  so  peacefully ! 
And  then  I  thought  o'  home,  and  how 
And  what  the  gyrls  was  doin'  now, 
And  kind  o'  prayed,  'way  in  my  breast, 
And  breshed  away  a  tear  er  two 
As  David  waked,  and  church  was  through. 

By  time  we'd  "howdyed"  round  and  shuck 
Hands  with  neighbers,  must  'a'  tuck 

,<M  'lliyifOTja   bttfi   frl-rHl   "ii-j'Jl   'fllV/fillT 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

A  half  hour  longer :  ever'  one 

A-sayin'  "Christmas  gift!"  afore 

David  er  me — so  we  got  none ! 

But  David  warmed  up,  more  and  more, 

And  got  so  jokey-like,  and  had 

His  sperits  up,  and  'peared  so  glad, 

I  whispered  to  him,  "S'pose  you  ast 

A  passel  of  'em  come  and  eat 

Their  dinners  with  us.    Gyrls's  got 

A  full-and-plenty  fer  the  lot 

And  all  their  kin !"     So  David  passed 

The  invite  round :  and  ever'  seat 

In  ever'  wagon-bed  and  sleigh 

Was  jes'  packed,  as  we  rode  away, — 

The  young  folks,  mil'd  er  so  along, 

A-strikin'  up  a  sleighin'-song, 

Tel  David  laughed  and  yelled,  you  know, 

And  jes'  whirped  up  and  sent  the  snow 

And  gravel  flyin'  thick  and  fast — 

Last  Christmas  was  a  year  ago. 

W'y,  that-air  seven-mil'd  ja'nt  we  come — 

Jes'  seven  mil'd  scant  from  church  to  home — 

It  didn't  'pear,  that  day,  to  be 

Much  furder  railly  'n  'bout  three! 

But  I  was  purty  squeamish  by 
The  time  home  hove  in  sight  and  I 
See  two  vehickles  standin'  there 
Already.    So  says  I,  "Prepare!" 
All  to  myse'f.    And  presently 
David  he  sobered ;  and  says  he, 

'"  G>}$  n}'A  I  .rnrri  >koi  ni>£  -jjH  i.'-l 

381 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

"Hain't  that-air  Squire  Hanch's  old 

Buggy,"  he  says,  "and  claybank  mare?" 

Says  I,  "Le'  's  git  in  out  the  cold — 

Your  company's  nigh  'bout  froze!"     He  says, 

"Whose  sleigh's  that-air,  a-standin'  there?" 

Says  I,  "It's  no  odds  zvhose — you  jes' 

Drive  to  the  house  and  let  us  out, 

'Cause  we're  jes'  freezin',  nigh  about!" 

Well,  David  swung  up  to  the  door, 

And  out  we  piled.    And  first  I  heerd 

Jane's  voice,  then  Lide's, — I  thought  afore 

I  reached  that  gyrl  I'd  jes'  die,  shore; 

And  when  I  reached  her,  wouldn't  keered 

Much  ef  I  had,  I  was  so  glad, 

A-kissin'  her  through  my  green  veil, 

And  jes'  excitin'  her  so  bad, 

'At  she  broke  down  herse'f — and  Jane, 

She  cried — and  we  all  hugged  again. 

And  David? — David  jes'  turned  pale! — • 

Looked  at  the  gyrls,  and  then  at  me, 

Then  at  the  open  door — and  then — 

"Is  old  Squire  Hanch  in  there?"  says  he. 

The  old  Squire  suddently  stood  in 

The  doorway,  with  a  sneakin'  grin. 

"Is  Perry  Anders  in  there,  too?" 

Says  David,  limberin'  all  through, 

As  Lide  and  me  both  grabbed  him,  and 

Perry  stepped  out  and  waved  his  hand 

And  says,  "Yes,  Pap."    And  David  jes' 

Stooped  and  kissed  Lide,  and  says,  "I  guess 

Yer  mother's  much  to  blame  as  you. 

Ef  she  kin  resk  him,  I  kin  too !" 

382 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

The  dinner  we  had  then  hain't  no 

Bit  better'n  the  one  to-day 

'At  we'll  have  fer  'em.    Hear  some  sleigh 

A-jinglin'  now.    David,  fer  me, 

I  wish  you'd  jes'  go  out  and  see 

Ef  they're  in  sight  yit.    It  jes'  does 

Me  good  to  think,  in  times  like  these, 

Lide's  done  so  well.    And  David,  he's 

More  tractabler'n  what  he  was — 

Last  Christmas  was  a  year  ago. 


204  Coin'  to  the  Fair 

OLD    STYLE 

WHEN  Me  an'  my  Ma  an'  Pa  went  to  the  Fair 
Ma  borried  Mizz  Rollins-uz  rigg  to  go  there, 
'Cause  our  buggy's  new,  an'  Ma  says,  "Mercy-sake ! 
It  wouldn't  hold  half  the  folks  she's  go'  to  take !" 
An'  she  took  Marindy,  an'  Jane's  twins,  an'  Jo, 
An'  Aunty  Van  Meters-uz  girls — an'  old  Slo' 
Magee,  'at's  so  fat,  come  a-scrougin'  in  there, 
When  me  an'  my  Ma  an'  Pa  went  to  the  Fair ! 

?,O^ 

The  road's  full  o'  loads-full  'ist  ready  to  bu'st, 

An'  all  hot,  an'  smokin'  an'  chokin'  with  dust ; 

The  Wolffs  an'  their  wagon,  an'  Brizentines,  too — 

An'  horses  'ist  r'ared  when  the  toot-cars  come  through  ! 


383 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  'way  from  fur  off  we  could  hear  the  band  play, 
An'  peoples  all  there  'u'd  'ist  whoop  an'  hooray ! 
An'  I  stood  on  the  dash-board,  an'  Pa  boost'  me  there 
'Most  high  as  the  fence,  when  we  went  to  the  Fair ! 

An'  when  we  'uz  there  an'  inside,  we  could  see 
Wher'  the  flag's  on  a  pole  wher'  a  show's  go'  to  be ; 
An'  boys  up  in  trees,  an'  the  grea'-big  balloon 
'At  didn't  goned  up  a-tall,  all  afternoon ! 
An'  a  man  in  the  crowd  there  gived  money  away — 
An'  Pa  says  "he'd  ruther  earn  his  by  the  day !" — 
An'  he  gim-me  some,  an'  says  "ain't  nothin'  there 
Too  good  f er  his  boy,"  when  we  went  to  the  Fair ! 

Wisht  The  Raggedy  Man  wuz  there,  too ! — but  he  says, 
"Don't  talk  fairs  to  me,  child !     I  went  to  one ; — yes, — 
An'  they  wuz  a  swing  there  ye  rode — an'  I  rode, 
An' a  thing-um-a-jing  'at  ye  bio  wed — an'  I  bio  wed  ; 
An'  they  wuz  a  game  'at  ye  played — an'  I  played, 
An'  a  hitch  in  the  same  wher'  ye  paid — an'  I  paid ; 
An*  they  wuz  two  bad  to  one  good  peoples  there — 
Like  you  an'  your  Pa  an'  Ma  went  to  the  Fair !" 


Fessler's  Bees 


'  'bout  yer  bees,"  says  Ike, 
Speakin'  slow  and  ser'ous-like, 
"Df  ever  tell  you  'bout  old  'Bee'— 
Old  'Bee'  Fessler?"  Ike-says-he! 

384 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

"Might  call  him  a  bee-expert, 
When  it  come  to  handlin'  bees, — 
Roll  the  sleeves  up  of  his  shirt 
And  wade  in  amongst  the  trees 
Where  a  swarm  Vd  settle,  and — 
Blam'est  man  on  top  of  dirt! 
Rake  'em  with  his  naked  hand 
Right  back  in  the  hive  ag'in, 
Jes'  as  easy  as  you  please ! 
Nary  bte  'at  split  the  breeze 
Ever  jabbed  a  stinger  in 
Old  'Bee'  Fessler — jes'  in  fun, 
Er  in  airnest — nary  one  ! — 
Couldn't  agg  one  on  to,  nuther, 
Ary  one  way  er  the  other  ! 

"Old  'Bee'  Fessler,"  Ike  says-he, 

"Made  a  speshyality 

Jes'  o'  bees ;  and  built  a  shed — 

Len'th  about  a  half  a  mild ! 

Had  about  a  thousan'  head 

O'  hives,  I  reckon — tame  and  wild ! 

Durndest  buzzin'  ever  wuz — 

Wuss'n  telegraph-poles  does 

When  they're  sockin'  home  the  news 

Tight  as  they  kin  let  'er  loose ! 

Visitors  rag  out  and  come 

Clean  from  town  to  hear  'em  hum, 

And  stop  at  the  kivered  bridge ; 

But  wuz  some  'u'd  cross  the  ridge 

Allus,  and  go  clos'ter — so's 

They  could  see  'em  hum,  I  s'pose ! 

385 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

'Peared-like  strangers  down  that  track 
Allus  met  folks  comin'  back 
Lookin'  extry  fat  and  hearty 
Fer  a  city  picnic  party ! 

"  'Fore  he  went  to  Floridy, 
Old  'Bee'  Fessler,"  Ike  says-he— 
"Old  'Bee*  Fessler  couldn't  bide 
Childern  on  his  place,"  says  Ike. 
"Yit,  fer  all,  they'd  climb  inside 
And  tromp  round  there,  keerless-like, 
In  their  bare  feet.    'Bee'  could  tell 
Ev'ry  town-boy  by  his  yell — 
So's  'at  when  they  bounced  the  fence, 
Didn't  make  no  difference! 
He'd  jes*  git  down  on  one  knee 
In  the  grass  and  pat  the  bee ! — 
And,  ef  't  'adn't  stayed  stuck  in, 
Fess'  'u'd  set  the  sting  ag'in, 
'N'  potter  off,  and  wait  around 
Fer  the  old  famillyer  sound. 
Allus  boys  there,  more  or  less, 
Scootin'  round  the  premises ! 
When  the  buckwheat  wuz  in  bloom, 
Lawzy !  how  them  bees  'u'd  boom 
Round  the  boys  'at  crossed  that  way 
Fer  the  crick  on  Saturday ! 
Never  seemed  to  me  su'prisin' 
'At  the  sting  o'  bees  'uz  p'izin ! 

"  'Fore  he  went  to  Floridy," 
Ike  says,  "nothin*  'bout  a  bee 

386 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

'At  old  Fessler  didn't  know, — 

W'y,  it  jes'  'peared-like  'at  he 

Knowed  their  language,  high  and  low : 

Claimed  he  told  jes'  by  their  buzz 

What  their  wants  and  wishes  wuz ! 

Peek  in  them-air  little  holes 

Round  the  porches  o'  the  hive — 

Drat  their  pesky  little  souls ! — 

Could  'a'  skinned  the  man  alive ! 

Bore  right  in  there  with  his  thumb, 

And  squat  down  and  scrape  the  gum 

Outen  ev'ry  hole,  and  blow 

'N'  bresh  the  crumbs  off,  don't  you  know ! 

Take  the  roof  off,  and  slide  back 

Them-air  glass  concerns  they  pack 

Full  o'  honey,  and  jes'  lean 

'N'  grabble  'mongst  'em  f  er  the  queen  1 

Fetch  her  out  and  show  you  to  her — 

Jes',  you  might  say,  interview  her ! 

"Year  er  two,"  says  Ike,  says-he, 
"  'Fore  he  went  to  Floridy, 
Fessler  struck  the  theory, 
Honey  was  the  same  as  love — 
You  could  make  it  day  and  night : 
Said  them  bees  o'  his  could  be 
Got  jes'  twic't  the  work  out  of 
Ef  a  feller  managed  right. 
He  contended  ef  bees  found 
Blossoms  all  the  year  around, 
He  could  git  'em  down  at  once 
To  work  all  the  winter  months 


387 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Same  as  summer.    So,  one  fall, 
When  their  summer's  work  wtiz  done, 
'Bee'  turns  in  and  robs  'em  all ; 
Loads  the  hives  then,  one  by  one, 
On  the  cyars,  and  'lowed  he'd  see 
Ef  bees  loafed  in  Floridy! 
Said  he  bet  he'd  know  the  reason 
Ef  his  didn't  work  that  season ! 

"And,"  says  Ike,  "it's  jes',"  says-he, 
"Like  old  Fessler  says  to  me : 
'Any  man  kin  fool  a  bee, 
Git  him  down  in  Floridy !' 
Teared  at  fust,  as  old  'Bee'  said, 
Fer  to  kind  o'  turn  their  head 
Fer  a  spell ;  but,  bless  you !  they 
Didn't  lose  a  half  a  day 
Altogether ! — Jes'  lit  in 
Them-air  tropics,  and  them-air 
Cacktusses  a-ripen-nirr", 
'N'  magnolyers,  and  sweet-peas, 
'N'  'simmon  and  pineapple  trees, 
JN'  ripe  bananers,  here  and  there, 
'N'  dates  a-danglin'  in  the  breeze, 
'N'  figs  and  reezins  ev'rywhere, 
All  waitin'  jes'  fer  Fessler's  bees! 
'N'  Fessler's  bees,  with  gaumy  wings, 
A-gittin'  down  and  who  o  pin'  things  ! — 
Fessler  kind  o'  overseein' 
'Em,  and  sort  o'  'hee-o-heein' !' 

"  'Fore  he  went  to  Floridy, 
Old  'Bee'  Fessler,"  Ike  says-he, 
388 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

"Wuzn't  counted,  jes'  to  say, 
Mean  er  or'n'ry  anyway ; 
On'y  ev'ry  'tarnel  dime 
'At  'u'd  pass  him  on  the  road 
He'd  ketch  up  with,  ev'ry  time ; 
And  no  mortal  ever  knowed 
Him  to  spend  a  copper  cent — 
'Less  on  some  fool-'speriment 
With  them  bees — like  that-un  he 
Played  on  'em  in  Floridy. 
Fess',  of  course,  he  tuck  his  ease, 
But  'twuz  bilious  on  the  bees  ! 
Sweat,  you  know,  'u'd  jes'  stand  out 
On  their  forreds — pant  and  groan, 
And  grunt  round  and  limp  about ! — 
And  old  'Bee,'  o'  course,  a-knowin' 
'Twuzn't  no  fair  shake  to  play 
On  them  pore  dumb  insecks,  ner 
To  abuse  'em  thataway. 
Bees  has  rights,  I'm  here  to  say, 
And  that's  all  they  ast  him  f  er ! 
Man  as  mean  as  that,  jes'  'pears, 
Could  V  worked  bees  on  the  sheers ! 
Cleared  big  money — well,  I  guess, 
'Bee'  shipped  honey,  more  er  less, 
Into  ev'ry  state,  perhaps, 
Ever  putt  down  in  the  maps ! 

"But  by  time  he  fetched  'em  back 
In  the  spring  ag'in,"  says  Ike, 
"They  wuz  actin'  s'picious-like  : 
Though  they  'peared  to  lost  the  track 

389 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

O'  ev'rything  they  saw  er  heard, 
They'd  lay  round  the  porch,  and  gap* 
At  their  shadders  in  the  sun, 
Do-less  like,  ontel  some  bird 
Suddently  'u'd  maybe  drap 
In  a  bloomin'  churry  tree, 
Twitterin'  a  tune  'at  run 
In  their  minds  f amiliously ! 
They'd  revive  up,  kind  o',  then, 
Like  they  argied :  'Well,  it's  be'n 
The  most  longest  summer  we 
Ever  saw  er  want  to  see ! 
Must  be  right,  though,  er  old  "Bee" 
'U'd  notify  us!'  they  says-ee; 
And  they'd  sort  o'  square  their  chin 
And  git  down  to  work  ag'in — 
Moanin'  round  their  honey-makin', 
Kind  o'  like  their  head  was  achin'. 
Tetchin'  fer  to  see  how  they 
Trusted  Fessler  thataway — 
Him  a-lazin'  round,  and  smirkin' 
To  hisse'f  to  see  'em  workin' ! 
wife  -*fi  rio'iwHl  &9#ww  V  Mr/,/  > 
"But  old  'Bee/  "  says  Ike,  says-he — 
"Now  where  is  he  ?    Where's  he  gone  ? 
Where's  the  head  he  helt  so  free? 
Where's  his  pride  and  vanity? 
What's  his  hopes  a-restin'  on? — 
Never  knowed  a  man,"  says  Ike, 
"Take  advantage  of  a  bee, 
'At  affliction  didn't  strike 
Round  in  that  vicinity ! 

390 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Sinners  allus  suffers  some, 

And  old  Fessler's  reck'nin*  come ! 

That-air  man  to-day  is  jes' 

Like  the  grass  'at  Scriptur'  says 

Cometh  up,  and  then  turns  in 

And  jes'  gits  cut  down  ag'in ! 

Old  'Bee'  Fessler,"  Ike  says-he, 

"Says,  last  fall,  says  he  to  me— 

'Ike,'  says  he,  'them  bees  has  jes' 

Ciphered  out  my  or'n'riness  ! 

Nary  bee  in  ary  swarm 

On  the  whole  endurin'  farm 

Won't  have  nothin'  more  to  do 

With  a  man  as  mean  as  I've 

Be'n  to  them,  last  year  er  two ! 

Nary  bee  in  ary  hive 

But'll  turn  his  face  away, 

Like  they  ort,  whenever  they 

Hear  my  footprints  drawin'  nigh  !* 

And  old  'Bee,'  he'd  sort  o'  shy 

Round  oiieasy  in  his  cheer, 

Wipe  his  eyes,  and  yit  the  sap, 

Spite  o'  all,  'u'd  haf  to  drap, 

As  he  wound  up  :   'Wouldn't  keer 

Quite  so  much  ef  they'd  jes'  light 

In  and  settle  things  up  right, 

Like  they  ort ;  but — blame  the  thing ! — 

'Pears-like  they  won't  even  sting! 

Pepper  me,  the  way  I  felt, 

And  I'd  thank  'em,  ev'ry  welt !' 

And  as  miz'able  and  mean 

As  'Bee'  looked,  ef  you'd  'a'  seen 


391 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Them-air  hungry  eyes,"  says  Ike, 
"You'd  fergive  him,  more'n  like. 

"Wisht  you  had  'a'  knowed  old  'Bee* 
'Fore  he  went  to  Floridy!" 


206  "Tmdin  Joe" 

I'M  one  o'  these  cur'ous  kind  o*  chaps 
You  think  you  know  when  you  don't,  perhaps ! 
I  hain't  no  fool — ner  I  don't  p'tend 
To  be  so  smart  I  could  rickommend 
Myself  f er  a  conger  ssman,  my  friend  ! — 
But  I'm  kind  o'  betwixt-and-between,  you  know, — 
One  o'  these  fellers  'at  folks  calls  "slow." 
And  I'll  say  jest  here  I'm  kind  o'  queer 
Regardin'  things  'at  I  see  and  hear, — 
Per  I'm  thick  o'  hear  in'  sometimes,  and 
It's  hard  to  git  me  to  understand ; 
But  other  times  it  hain't,  you  bet ! 
Per  I  don't  sleep  with  both  eyes  shet ! 

I've  swapped  a  power  in  stock,  and  so 
The  neighbers  calls  me  "Tradin*  Joe" — 
And  I'm  goin'  to  tell  you  'bout  a  trade, — 
And  one  o'  the  best  I  ever  made : 

Folks  has  gone  so  fur's  to  say 
'At  I'm  well  fixed,  in  a  worldly  way, 
And  be  in'  so,  and  a  widower, 
It's  not  su'prisin',  as  you'll  infer, 

.392 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

I'm  purty  handy  among  the  sect — 
Widders  especially,  rickollect! 
And  I  won't  deny  that  along  o'  late 
I've  hankered  a  heap  fer  the  married  state- 
But  some  way  o'  'nother  the  longer  we  wait 
The  harder  it  is  to  discover  a  mate. 

Marshall  Thomas, — a  friend  o'  mine, 

Doin'  some  in  the  tradin'  line, 

But  a'most  too  young  to  know  it  all— 

On'y  at  picnics  er  some  ball!— 

Says  to  me,  in  a  banterin*  way, 

As  we  was  a-loaclin'  stock  one  day, — 

"You're  a-huntin'  a  wife,  and  I  want  you  to  see 

My  girl's  mother,  at  Kankakee  !— 

She  hain't  over  forty — good-lookin'  and  spry, 

And  jest  the  woman  to  fill  your  eye! 

And  I'm  a-goin'  there  Sund'y,— and  now,"  says  he, 

"I  want  to  take  you  along  with  me; 

And  you  marry  her,  and,"  he  says,  "by  'shaw ! 

You'll  hev  me  fer  yer  son-in-law !" 

I  studied  a  while,  and  says  I,  "Well,  I'll 

First  have  to  see  ef  she  suits  my  style; 

And  ef  she  does,  you  kin  bet  your  life 

Your  mother-in-law  will  be  my  wife !" 

Well,  Sund'y  come ;  and  I  fixed  up  some- 
Putt  on  a  collar — I  did,  by  gum ! — 
Got  down  my  "plug,"  and  my  satin  vest— 
(You  wouldn't  know  me  to  see  me  dressed  !— 
But  any  one  knows  ef  you  got  the  clothes 
You  kin  go  in  the  crowd  wher'  the  best  of  'em  goes  !) 

393 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  I  greeced  my  boots,  and  combed  my  hair 
Keerfully  over  the  bald  place  there ; 
And  Marshall  Thomas  and  me  that  day 
Eat  our  dinners  with  Widder  Gray 
And  her  girl  Han'!    .    .  -Vi:* 

Well,  jest  a  glance 
O'  the  widder's  smilin'  countenance, 
A-cuttin'  up  chicken  and  big  pot-pies, 
Would  make  a  man  hungry  in  Paradise ! 
And  passin'  p'serves  and  jelly  and  cake 
'At  would  make  an  angel's  appetite  ache! — 
Pourin'  out  coffee  as  yaller  as  gold — 
Twic't  as  much  as  the  cup  could  hold — 
La !  it  was  rich ! — And  then  she'd  say, 
"Take  some  o'  this!"  in  her  coaxin'  way, 
Tel  ef  I'd  been  a  hoss  I'd  'a'  foundered,  shore, 
And  jest  dropped  dead  on  her  white-oak  floor! 

Well,  the  way  I  talked  would  'a'  done  you  good, 
Ef  you'd  'a'  been  there  to  'a'  understood ; 
Tel  I  noticed  Hanner  and  Marshall,  they 
Was  a-noticin*  me  in  a  cur'ous  way ; 
So  I  says  to  myse'f,  says  I,  "Now,  Joe, 
The  best  thing  fer  you  is  to  jest  go  slow !" 
And  I  simmered  down,  and  let  them  do 
The  bulk  o'  the  talkin'  the  evening  through. 

And  Marshall  was  still  in  a  talkative  gait 
When  we  left,  that  evening — tolable  late. 
"How  do  you  like  her?"  he  says  to  me; 
Says  I,  "She  suits,  to  a  't-y-Tee'!" 


394 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  then  I  ast  how  matters  stood 
With  him  in  the  opposite  neighberhood? 
"Bully !"  he  says  ;  "I  ruther  guess 
I'll  finally  git  her  to  say  the  *yes-' 
I  named  it  to  her  to-night,  and  she 
Kind  o'  smiled,  and  said  'she'd  see' — 
And  that's  a  purty  good  sign !"  says  he  : 
"Yes,"  says  I,  "you're  ahead  o*  me!" 
And  then  he  laughed,  and  said,  "Go  in!" 
And  patted  me  on  the  shoulder  ag'in. 

Well,  ever  sense  then  I've  been  ridin'  a  good 
Deal  through  the  Kankakee  neighberhood ; 
And  I  make  it  convenient  sometimes  to  stop 
And  hitch  a  few  minutes,  and  kind  o'  drop 
In  at  the  widder's,  and  talk  o'  the  crop 
And  one  thing  o'  'nother.    And  week  afore  last 
The  notion  struck  me,  as  I  drove  past, 
I'd  stop  at  the  place  and  state  my  case — 
Might  as  well  do  it  at  first  as  last ! 

I  felt  first-rate ;  so  I  hitched  at  the  gate, 

And  went  up  to  the  house ;  and,  strange  to  relate, 

Marshall  Thomas  had  dropped  in,  too. — 

"Glad  to  see  you,  sir,  how  do  you  do  ?" 

He  says,  says  he !    Well — it  sounded  queer; 

And  when  Han'  told  me  to  take  a  cheer, 

Marshall  got  up  and  putt  out  o'  the  room — 

And  motioned  his  hand  fer  the  widder  to  come. 

I  didn't  say  nothin'  fer  quite  a  spell, 

But  thinks  I  to  myse'f,  "There's  a  dog  in  the  well !" 


395 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  Han'  she  smiled  so  cur'ous  at  me — 

Says  I,  "What's  up  ?"    And  she  says,  says  she, 

"Marshall's  been  at  me  to  marry  ag'in, 

And  I  told  him  'no,'  jest  as  you  come  in.5' 

Well,  somepin'  o'  'nother  in  that  girl's  voice 

Says  to  me,  "Joseph,  here's  your  choice !" 

And  another  minute  her  guileless  breast 

Was  lovin'ly  throbbin'  ag'in'  my  vest ! — 

And  then  I  kissed  her,  and  heerd  a  smack 

Come  like  a'  echo,  a-flutterin'  back, 

And  we  looked  around,  and  in  full  view 

Marshall  was  kissin'  the  widder,  too ! 

Well,  we  all  of  us  laughed,  in  our  glad  su'prise, 

Tel  the  tears  come  a-streamin'  out  of  our  eyes ! 

And  when  Marsh  said  "  Twas  the  squarest  trade 

That  ever  me  and  him  had  made," 

We  both  shuck  hands,  'y  jucks !  and  swore 

We'd  stick  together  ferevermore. 

And  old  'Squire  Chipman  tuck  us  the  trip : 

And  Marshall  and  me's  in  pardnership ! 


207  Uncle  Williams  Picture 
--.o<rt  ,nf  fcKjqbib  f>nr!  iwmoA'Y 

UNCLE  WILLIAM,  last  July, 
Had  his  picture  took. 
"Have  it  done,  of  course,"  says  I, 

"Jes*  the  way  you  look  !" 
(All  dressed  up,  he  was,  fer  the 
Barbecue  and  jubilee 
The  old  settlers  helt.)     So  he— 
Last  he  had  it  took. 

396 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

Lide  she'd  coaxed  and  begged  and  pled, 

Sence  her  mother  went ; 
But  he'd  cough  and  shake  his  head 

At  all  argyment; 
Mebby  clear  his  th'oat  and  say, 
"What's  my  likeness  'mount  to,  hey, 
Now  with  Mother  gone  away 

From  us,  like  she  went?" 

But  we  projicked  round,  tel  we 

Got  it  figgered  down 
How  we'd  git  him,  Lide  and  me, 

Drivin'  into  town; 

Bragged  how  well  he  looked  and  fleshec 
Up  around  the  face,  and  freshed 
With  the  morning  air ;  and  breshed 

His  coat-collar  down. 

All  so  providential !    W'y, 

Now  he's  dead  and  gone, 
Picture  'pears  so  lifelike  I 

Want  to  start  him  on 
Them  old  tales  he  ust  to  tell, 
And  old  talks  so  sociable, 
And  old  songs  he  sung  so  well — 

'Fore  his  voice  was  gone ! 

Face  is  sad  to  Lide,  and  they's 

Sorrow  in  the  eyes — 
Kisses  it  sometimes,  and  lays 

It  away  and  cries. 


397 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

I  smooth  down  her  hair,  and  'low 
He  is  happy,  anyhow, 
Bein'  there  with  Mother  now, — 
Smile,  and  wipe  my  eyes. 


208  Squire  Hawkins's  Story 

I  HAIN'T  no  hand  at  teilin'  tales, 
Er  spinnin'  yarns,  as  the  sailors  say; 
Someway  o'  'nother,  language  fails 
To  slide  fer  me  in  the  oily  way 
That  lawyers  has ;  and  I  wisht  it  would, 
Fer  I've  got  somepin'  that  I  call  good ; 
But  bein'  only  a  country  squire, 
I've  learned  to  listen  and  admire, 
Ruther  pref errin'  to  be  addressed 
Than  talk  myse'f — but  I'll  do  my  best : — 
no  miff  .mta  ot  )ni>7/ 
Old  Jeff  Thompson— well,  I'll  say, 
Was  the  clos'test  man  I  ever  saw ! — 
Rich  as  cream,  but  the  poorest  pay, 
And  the  meanest  man  to  work  fer — La ! 
I've  knowed  that  man  to  work  one  "hand"- 
Fer  little  er  nothin',  you  understand — 
From  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  light 
Tel  eight  and  nine  o'clock  at  night, 
And  then  find  fault  with  his  appetite ! 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

He'd  drive  all  over  the  neighberhood 
To  miss  the  place  where  a  toll-gate  stood, 
And  slip  in  town,  by  some  old  road 
That  no  two  men  in  the  county  knowed, 
With  a  jag  o'  wood,  and  a  sack  o'  wheat, 
That  wouldn't  burn  and  you  couldn't  eat  1 
And  the  trades  he'd  make,  '11  I  jest  de-clare, 
Was  enough  to  make  a  preacher  swear ! 
And  then  he'd  hitch,  and  hang  about 
Tel  the  lights  in  the  toll-gate  was  blowed  out, 
And  then  the  turnpike  he'd  turn  in 
And  sneak  his  way  back  home  ag'in  1 

Some  folks  hint,  and  I  make  no  doubt, 
That  that's  what  wore  his  old  wife  out— 
Toilin'  away  from  day  to  day 
And  year  to  year,  through  heat  and  cold, 
Uncomplainin' — the  same  old  way 
The  martyrs  died  in  the  days  of  old ; 
And  a-clingin',  too,  as  the  martyrs  done, 
To  one  fixed  faith,  and  her  only  one, — 
Little  Patience,  the  sweetest  child 
That  ever  wept  unrickonciled, 
Er  felt  the  pain  and  the  ache  and  sting 
That  only  a  mother's  death  can  bring. 

Patience  Thompson !— I  think  that  name 
Must  'a'  come  from  a  power  above, 
Fer  it  seemed  to  fit  her  jest  the  same 
As  a  gaiter  would,  er  a  fine  kid  glove  I 
And  to  see  that  girl,  with  all  the  care 
Of  the  household  on  her — I  de-clare 

399 


THE   IIOOSIER   BOOK 

It  was  audacious,  the  work  she'd  do, 

And  the  thousand  plans  that  she'd  putt  through 

And  sing  like  a  medder-lark  all  day  long, 

And  drownd  her  cares  in  the  joys  o*  song; 

And  laugh  sometimes  tel  the  farmer's  "hand," 

Away  fur  off  in  the  fields,  would  stand 

A-listenin',  with  the  plow  half  drawn, 

Tel  the  coaxin'  echoes  called  him  on ; 

And  the  furries  seemed,  in  his  dreamy  eyes, 

Like  foot-paths  a-leadin'  to  Paradise, 

As  off  through  the  hazy  atmosphere 

The  call  fer  dinner  reached  his  ear. 

Now  love's  as  cunnin'  a  little  thing 
As  a  hummin'-bird  upon  the  wing, 
And  as  liable  to  poke  his  nose 
Jest  where  folks  would  least  suppose, — 
And  more'n  likely  build  his  nest 
Right  in  the  heart  you'd  leave  unguessed, 
And  live  and  thrive  at  your  expense — 
At  least,  that's  my  experience. 
And  old  Jeff  Thompson  often  thought, 
In  his  se'fish  way,  that  the  quiet  John 
Was  a  stiddy  chap,  as  a  farm-hand  ought 
To  always  be, — fer  the  airliest  dawn 
Found  John  busy — and  "easy,"  too, 
Whenever  his  wages  would  fall  due ! 
To  sum  him  up  with  a  final  touch, 
He  eat  so  little  and  worked  so  much, 
That  old  Jeff  laughed  to  hisse'f  and  said, 
"'He  makes  me  money  and  aims  his  bread !" 
Difib- ..:!.>  I--t3rf  no  Wu.toenoH  v 
400 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

But  John,  fer  all  of  his  quietude, 
Would  sometimes  drap  a  word  er  $©,_,; 
That  none  but  Patience  understood, 
And  none  but  her  was 'meant  to  know  !— 
Maybe  at  meal-times  John  would  say, 
As  the  sugar-bowl  come  down  his  way, 
"Thanky,  no ;  my  coffee's  sweet 
Enough  fer  me!"  with  sich  conceit, 
She'd  know  at  once,  without  no  doubt, 
He  meant  because  she  poured  it  out ; 
And  smile  and  blush,  and  all  sich  stuff, 
And  ast  ef  it  was  "strong  enough?" 
And  git  the  answer,  neat  and  trim, 
"It  couldn't  be  too  'strong'  fer  him !" 

V{ew-^bm*  £  nr  ,tifi£«-tef{Jo  JuH 
And  so  things  went  fer  'bout  a  year, 
Tel  John,  at  last,  found  pluck  to  go 
And  pour  his  tale  in  the  old  man's  ear — 
And  ef  it  had  been  hot  lead,  I  know 
It  couldn't  'a'  raised  a  louder  fuss, 
Ner  'a'  riled  the  old  man's  temper  wuss ! 
He  jest  lit  in,  and  cussed  and  swore, 
And  lunged  and  rared,  and  ripped  and  tore 
And  told  John  jest  to  leave  his  door, 
And  not  to  darken  it  no  more ! 
But  Patience  cried,  with  eyes  all  wet, 
"Remember,  John,  and  don't  ferget, 
Whatever  comes,  I  love  you  yet!" 
But  the  old  man  thought,  in  his  se'fish  way, 
"I'll  see  her  married  rich  some  day ; 
And  that,"  thinks  he,  "is  money  fer  me — 
And  my  will's  law,  as  it  ought  to  be !" 

401 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

So  when,  in  the  course  of  a  month  er  so, 

A  widower,  with  a  farm  er  two, 

Comes  to  Jeff's,  w'y,  the  folks,  you  know, 

Had  to  talk— as  the  f  olks'll  do : 

It  was  the  talk  of  the  neighberhood — 

Patience  and  John,  and  their  affairs ; — 

And  this  old  chap  with  a  few  gray  hairs 

Had  "cut  John  out,"  it  was  understood. 

And  some  folks  reckoned  "Patience,  too, 

Knowed  what  she  was  a-goin'  to  do — 

It  was  like  her — la  1  indeed  ! — 

All  she  loved  was  dollars  and  cents — 

Like  old  Jeff — and  they  saw  no  need 

Fer  John  to  pine  at  her  negligence !" 

But  others  said,  in  a  kinder  way, 

They  missed  the  songs  she  used  to  sing — 

They  missed  the  smiles  that  used  to  play 

Over  her  face,  and  the  laughin'  ring 

Of  her  glad  voice — that  ^<>r;ything 

Of  her  old  se'f  seemed  dead  and  gone, 

And  this  was  the  ghost  that  they  gazed  onl 

Tel  finally  it  was  noised  about 
There  was  a  weddin'  soon  to  be 
Down  at  Jeff's ;  and  the  "cat  was  out" 
Shore  enough  ! — 'LI  the  Jee-mun-nee! 
It  riled  me  when  John  told  me  so, — 
Fer  /  was  a  friend  o'  John's,  you  know; 
And  his  trimblin'  voice  jest  broke  in  two— 
As  a  feller's  voice'll  sometimes  do. — 
And  I  says,  says  I,  "Ef  I  know  my  biz — 
And  I  think  I  know  what  jestice  is, — 

402 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

I've  read  some  law — and  I'd  advise 
A  man  like  you  to  wipe  his  eyes, 
And  square  his  jaws  and  start  ag'in, 
Per  jestice  is  a-goin'  to  win!" 
And  it  wasn't  long  tel  his  eyes  had  cleared 
As  blue  as  the  skies,  and  the  sun  appeared 
In  the  shape  of  a  good  old-fashioned  smile 
That  I  hadn't  seen  fer  a  long,  long  while. 

So  we  talked  on  fer  a'  hour  er  more, 
And  sunned  ourselves  in  the  open  door, — • 
Tel  a  hoss-and-buggy  down  the  road 
Come  a-drivin'  up,  that  I  guess  John  knowed, — 
Fer  he  winked  and  says,  "I'll  dessappear— 
They'd  smell  a  mice  ef  they  saw  me  here !" 
And  he  thumbed  his  nose  at  the  old  gray  mare, 
And  hid  hisse'f  in  the  house  somewhere. 

Well. — The  rig  drove  up :  and  I  raised  my  head 

As  old  Jeff  hollered  to  me  and  said 

That  "him  and  his  old  friend  there  had  come 

To  see  ef  the  squire  was  at  home." 

...  I  told  'em  "I  was ;  and  I  aimed  to  be 

At  every  chance  of  a  weddin'-fee !" 

And  then  I  laughed — and  they  laughed,  too, — 

Fer  that  was  the  object  they  had  in  view. 

"Would  I  be  on  hands  at  eight  that  night  ?" 

They  ast ;  and  's-I,  "You're  mighty  right, 

/'//  be  on  hands !"    And  then  I  bu'st 

Out  a-laughin'  my  very  wu'st, — 

And  so  did  they,  as  they  wheeled  away 

And  drove  to'rds  town  in  a  cloud  o'  dust. 


403 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Then  I  shet  the  door,  and  me  and  John 
Laughed  and  laughed,  and  jest  laughed  on<; 
Tel  Mother  drapped  her  specs,  and  by 
Jeewhillikers!    I  thought  she'd  die! — 
And  she  couldn't  'a'  told,  I'll  bet  my  hat, 
What  on  earth  she  was  laughin'  at ! 

<)iiir>t  b'jnotdiiiJUMo  fcuog  fi-3o.  yqufh  5ifj  ril 
But  all  o'  the  fun  o'  the  tale  hain't  done  I— 
Fer  a  drizzlin'  rain  had  jest  begun, 
And  a-havin'  'bout  four  mile'  to  ride, 
I  jest  concluded  I'd  better  light 
Out  fer  Jeff's  and  save  my  hide, — 
Fer  it  was  a-goin'  to  storm,  that  night! 
So  we  went  down  to  the  barn,  and  John 
Saddled  my  beast,  and  I  got  on ; 
And  he  told  me  somepin'  to  not  ferget, 
And  when  I  left,  he  was  laughin'  yet. 

And,  'proachin'  on  to  my  journey's  end, 
The  great  big  draps  o'  the  rain  come  down, 
And  the  thunder  growled  in  a  way  to  lend 
An  awful  look  to  the  lowerin'  frown 
The  dull  sky  wore ;  and  the  lightnin'  glanced 
Tel  my  old  mare  jest  morc'n  pranced, 
And  tossed  her  head,  and  bugged  her  eyes 
To  about  four  times  their  natchurl  size, 
As  the  big  black  lips  of  the  clouds  'nd  drap 
Out  some  oath  of  a  thunder-clap, 
And  threaten  on  in  an  undertone 
That  chilled  a  feller  clean  to  the  bone ! 

Je#k  V  Imofo  x»-,  hi 'jiwoj  *[>i\>}  yvoih  bnA 

404 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

But  I  struck  shelter  soon  enough 

To  save  myse'f.    And  the  house  was  jammed 

With  the  women-folks,  and  the  weddin'-stuff : 

A  great,  long  table,  fairly  crammed 

With  big  pound-cakes — and  chops  and  steaks— 

And  roasts  and  stews — and  stumick-aches 

Of  every  fashion,  form,  and  size, 

From  twisters  up  to  punkin-pies ! 

And  candies,  oranges,  and  figs, 

And  reezins, — all  the  "whilligigs" 

And  "jim-cracks"  that  the  law  allows 

On  sich  occasions ! — Bobs  and  bows 

Of  gigglin'  girls,  with  corkscrew  curls, 

And  fancy  ribbons,  reds  and  blues, 

And  "beau-ketchers"  and  "curliques" 

To  beat  the  world !    And  seven  o'clock 

Brought  old  Jeff; — and  brought — the  groom,— 

With  a  sideboard-collar  on,  and  stock 

That  choked  him  so,  he  hadn't  room 

To  swallcr  in,  er  even  sneeze, 

Er  clear  his  th'oat  with  any  ease 

Er  comfort — and  a  good  square  cough 

Would  saw  his  Adam's  apple  off ! 

— tU*Ui  :3o*:l>tt6  no  >ioo!  i™[  oT 
But  as  fer  Patience — My!  Qomh-oomh!— 
I  never  saw  her  look  so  sweet ! — 
Her  face  was  cream  and  roses,  too ; 
And  then  them  eyes  o'  heavenly  blue 
Jest  made  an  angel  all  complete ! 
And  when  she  split  'em  up  in  smiles 
And  splintered  'em  around  the  room, 
And  danced  acrost  and  met  the  groom, 

405 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  laughed  out  loud  —  It  kind  o*  spiles 

My  language  when  I  come  to  that  — 

Fer,  as  she  laid  away  his  hat, 

Thinks  I,  "The  papers  hid  inside 

Of  that  said  hat  must  make  a  bride 

A  happy  one  fer  all  her  life, 

Er  else  a  wrecked  and  wretched  wife!" 

And,  someway,  then,  I  thought  of  John,  —  • 

Then  looked  towards  Patience.   .  .  .   She  was  <70«<?/- 

The  door  stood  open,  and  the  rain 

Was  dashin'  in  ;  and  sharp  and  plain 

Above  the  storm  we  heerd  a  cry  — 

A  ringin',  laughin',  loud  "Good-by  !" 

That  died  away,  as  fleet  and  fast 

A  hoss's  hoofs  went  splashin'  past  ! 

And  that  was  all.    'Twas  done  that  quick  !  „ 

You've  heerd  o'  fellers  "lookin'  sick"  ? 

I  wisht  you'd  seen  the  groom  jest  then— 

I  wisht  you'd  seen  them  two  old  men, 

With  starin'  eyes  that  fairly  glared 

At  one  another,  and  the  scared 

And  empty  faces  of  the  crowd,  — 

I  wisht  you  could  'a'  been  allowed 

To  jest  look  on  and  see  it  all,  — 

And  heerd  the  girls  and  women  bawl 

And  wring  their  hands  ;  and  heerd  old  Jeff 

A-cussin'  as  he  swung  hisse'f 

Upon  his  hoss,  who  champed  his  bit 

As  though  old  Nick  had  holt  of  it  : 

And  cheek  by  jowl  the  two  old  wrecks 

Rode  off  as  though  they'd  break  their  necks. 


406 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  as  we  all  stood  starin'  out 

Into  the  night,  I  felt  the  brush 

Of  some  one's  hand,  and  turned  about, 

And  heerd  a  voice  that  whispered,  "Hush!- 

They're  waitin'  in  the  kitchen,  and 

You're  wanted.    Don't  you  understand?" 

Well,  ef  my  memory  serves  me  now, 

I  think  I  winked. — Well,  anyhow, 

I  left  the  crowd  a-gawkin'  there, 

And  jest  slipped  off  around  to  where 

The  back  door  opened,  and  went  in, 

And  turned  and  shet  the  door  ag'in, 

And  maybe  locked  it — couldn't  swear, — 

A  woman's  arms  around  me  makes 

Me  liable  to  make  mistakes. — 

I  read  a  marriage  license  nex', 

But  as  I  didn't  have  my  specs 

I  jest  inferred  it  was  all  right, 

And  tied  the  knot  so  mortal-tight 

That  Patience  and  my  old  friend  John 

Was  safe  enough  from  that  time  on ! 

Well  now  I  might  go  on  and  tell 
How  all  the  joke  at  last  leaked  out, 
And  how  the  youngsters  raised  the  yell 
And  rode  the  happy  groom  about 
Upon  their  shoulders ;  how  the  bride 
Was  kissed  a  hunderd  times  beside 
The  one  7  give  her, — tel  she  cried 
And  laughed  untel  she  like  to  died ! 
I  might  go  on  and  tell  you  all 
About  the  supper — and  the  ball. — 

407 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

You'd  ought  to  see  me  twist  my  heel 
Through  jest  one  old  Furginny  reel 
Afore  you  die!  er  tromp  the  strings 
Of  some  old  fiddle  tel  she  sings 
Some  old  cowtillion,  don't  you  know, 
That  putts  the  devil  in  yer  toe ! 

We  kep'  the  dancin'  up  tel  four 
O'clock,  I  reckon — maybe  more. — 
We  hardly  heerd  the  thunders  roar, 
Er  thought  about  the  storm  that  blowed— 
And  them  two  fellers  on  the  road! 
Tel  all  at  onc't  we  heerd  the  door 
Bu'st  open,  and  a  voice  that  swore, — 
And  old  Jeff  Thompson  tuck  the  floor. 
He  shuck  hisse'f  and  looked  around 
Like  some  old  dog  about  half-drowned — 
His  hat,  I  reckon,  weighed  ten  pound 
To  say  the  least,  and  I'll  say,  shore, 
His  overcoat  weighed  fifty  more — 
The  wettest  man  you  ever  saw, 
To  have  so  dry  a  son-in-law! 

He  sized  it  all ;  and  Patience  laid 

Her  hand  in  John's,  and  looked  afraid, 

And  waited.    And  a  stiller  set 

O'  folks,  I  know,  you  never  met 

In  any  court  room,  where  with  dread 

They  wait  to  hear  a  verdick  read. 

The  old  man  turned  his  eyes  on  me : 
"And  have  you  married  'em  ?"  says  he. 

408 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

1  nodded  "Yes."    "Well,  that'll  do," 

He  says,  "and  now  we're  th'ough  with  you,— 

You  jest  clear  out,  and  I  decide 

And  promise  to  be  satisfied !" 

He  hadn't  nothin'  more  to  say. 

I  saw,  of  course,  how  matters  lay, 

And  left.    But  as  I  rode  away 

I  heerd  the  roosters  crow  fer  day. 


209  The  Truly  Marvelous 


IUNTS  is  the  biggest  mens  they  air 

In  all  this  world  er  anywhere!  — 
An*  Tom  Thumb  he's  the  most  little-est  man, 
'Cause  wunst  he  lived  in  a  oyshture-can  ! 


210  The  Spoiled  Child 


'/^AUSE  Herbert  Graham's  a'  only  child- 
V><        "Wuz  I  there,  Ma?" 
His  parunts  uz  got  him  purt'  nigh  spiled— 

"Wuz  I  there,  Ma?" 
Allus  ever'  where  his  Ma  tells 
Where  she's  bin  at,  little  Herbert  yells, 
"Wuz  I  there,  Ma?" 

409 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  when  she  telled  us  wunst  when  she 
Wuz  ist  'bout  big  as  him  an'  me, 
W'y,  little  Herbert  he  says,  says-ee, 

"Wuz  I  there,  Ma?" 
Foolishest  young-un  you  ever  saw. — 
"Wuz  I  there,  Ma?    Wuz  I  there,  Ma?" 


211          The  Doodle-Bugs' s  Charm 

WHEN  Uncle  Sidney  he  comes  here — 
An*  Fred  an'  me  an'  Min, — 
My  Ma  she  says  she  bet  you  yet 

The  roof'll  tumble  in ! 
Fer  Uncle  he  ist  romps  with  us : 

An'  wunst,  out  in  our  shed, 
He  telled  us  'bout  the  Doodle-Bugs, 

An'  what  they'll  do,  he  said, 
Ef  you'll  ist  holler  "Doodle-Bugs  !"— 

Out  by  our  garden-bed — 
"Doodle-Bugs !    Doodle-Bugs ! 

Come  up  an'  git  some  bread !" 

Ain't  Uncle  Sidney  funny  man? — 

"He's  childish  'most  as  me" — 
My  Ma  sometimes  she  tells  him  that — 

"He  ac's  so  foolishly!" 
W'y,  wunst,  out  in  our  garden-path, 

Wite  by  the  pie-plant  bed, 
He  all  sprawled  out  there  in  the  dirt 

An'  ist  scrooched  down  his  head, 
410 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  "Doodle  !   Doodle  !   Doodle-Bugs !' 

My  Uncle  Sidney  said, — 
"Doodle-Bugs !    Doodle-Bugs ! 

Come  up  an'  git  some  bread  !" 

An'  nen  he  showed  us  little  holes 
All  bored  there  in  the  ground, 

An'  little  weenty  heaps  o'  dust 
'At's  piled  there  all  around  : 

An'  Uncle  said,  when  he's  like  us, 
Er  purt'  nigh  big  as  Fred, 

That  wuz  the  Doodle-Bugs's  Charm- 
To  call  'em  up,  he  said : — 

"Doodle!   Doodle!   Doodle-Bugs!" 
An'  they'd  poke  out  their  head — 

"Doodle-Bugs !    Doodle-Bugs ! 
Come  up  an'  git  some  bread !" 


Little  Cousin  Jasper 

EFTLE  Cousin  Jasper,  he 
Don't  live  in  this  town,  like  me, 
He  lives  'way  to  Rensselaer, 
An'  ist  comes  to  visit  here. 

He  says  'at  our  court-house  square 
Ain't  nigh  big  as  theirn  is  there ! — 
He  says  their  town's  big  as  four 
Er  five  towns  like  this,  an'  more  1 
411 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

He  says  ef  his  folks  moved  here 
He'd  cry  to  leave  Rensselaer — 
'Cause  they's  prairies  there,  an'  lakes. 
An'  wile-ducks  an'  rattlesnakes! 

Yes,  V  little  Jasper's  Pa 
Shoots  most  things  you  ever  saw  ! — 
Wunst  he  shot  a  deer,  one  day, 
'At  swummed  off  an'  got  away. 

Little  Cousin  Jasper  went 
An'  camped  out  wunst  in  a  tent 
Wiv  his  Pa,  an'  helt  his  gun 
While  he  kilt  a  turrapun. 

An'  when  his  Ma  heerd  o'  that, 
An'  more  things  his  Pa's  bin  at, 
She  says,  "Yes,  'n'  he'll  git  shot 
'Fore  he's  man-grown,  like  as  not  !':> 

An'  they's  mussrats  there,  an'  minks: 
An*  di-dippers,  an'  chee-winks, — 
Yes,  'n'  cal'mus-root  you  chew 
All  up  an'  't  'on't  pizen  you ! 

An',  in  town,  's  a  flag-pole  there — 
Highest  one  'at's  anywhere 
In  this  world ! — wite  in  the  street 
Where  the  big  mass-meetin's  meet. 

Yes,  'n'  Jasper  he  says  they 
Got  a  brass  band  there,  an'  play 
On  it,  an'  march  up  an'  down 
An'  all  over  round  the  town ! 
412 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Wisht  our  town  ain't  like  it  is ! — 
Wisht  it's  ist  as  big  as  his ! 
Wisht  'at  his  folks  they'd  move  here, 
An*  we'd  move  to  Rensselaer ! 


213  The  Bee-Bag 

WHEN     I     was     ist     a     Brownie — a     weenty-teenty 
Brownie — 

Long  afore  I  got  to  be  like  Childerns  is  to-day, — 
My  good   old   Brownie  granny  gimme   sweeter   thing   'an 

can'y — 

An'  'at's  my  little  bee-bag  the  Fairies  stold  away ! 
O  my  little  bee-bag — 
My  little  funny  bee-bag — 
My  little  honey  bee-bag 
The  Fairies  stold  away! 

One   time    when    I   bin    swung   in    wiv    annuver    Brownie 

young-tin 
An'  lef'  sleepin'  in  a  pea-pod  while  our  parunts  went  to 

play, 

I  waked  up  ist  a-cryin'  an'  a-sobbin'  an'  a-sighin' 
Fer  my  little  funny  bee-bag  the  Fairies  stold  away ! 
O  my  little  bee-bag — 
My  little  funny  bee-bag — 
My  little  honey  bee-bag 
The  Fairies  stold  away! 

413 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

It's  awful  much  bewilder'n',  but  'at's  why  I'm  a  Childern, 

Ner  goin'  to  git  to  be  no  more  a  Brownie  sence  that  day! 
My   parunts,    so    imprudent,    lef    me    sleepin'    when    they 

shouldn't ! 

An'  I  want  my  little  bee-bag  the  Fairies  stold  away ! 
O  my  little  bee-bag — 
My  little  funny  bee-bag — 
My  little  honey  bee-bag 
The  Fairies  stold  away! 


214       'Mongst  the  Hills  o'  Somerset 

'T\/TONGST  the  Hills  °' Somersct 

IV JL   Wisht  I  was  a-roamin'  yet! 
My  feet  won't  get  usen  to 
These  low  lands  I'm  trompin'  through. 
Wisht  I  could  go  back  there,  and 
Stroke  the  long  grass  with  my  hand, 
Kind  o'  like  my  sweethearts  hair 
Smoothed  out  underneath  it  there! 
Wisht  I  could  set  eyes  once  more 
On  our  shadders,  on  before, 
Climbin',  in  the  airly  dawn. 
Up  the  slopes  'at  love  growed  on 
Natchurl  as  the  violet 
'Mongst  the  Hills  o'  Somerset ! 

How  't  'u'd  rest  a  man  like  me 
Jes'  fer  'bout  an  hour  to  be 
414 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Up  there  where  the  morning  air 
Could  reach  out  and  ketch  me  there ! — 
Snatch  my  breath  away,  and  then 
Rensh  and  give  it  back  again 
Fresh  as  dew,  and  smellin'  of 
The  old  pinks  I  ust  to  love, 
And  a-flavor'n'  ever'  breeze 
With  mixt  hints  o'  mulberries 
And  May-apples,  from  the  thick 
Bottom-lands  along  the  crick 
Where  the  fish  bit,  dry  er  wet, 
'Mongst  the  Hills  o'  Somerset ! 

Like  a  livin'  pictur'  things 

All  comes  back :  the  bluebird  swings 

In  the  maple,  tongue  and  bill 

Trillin'  glory  fit  to  kill ! 

In  the  orchard,  jay  and  bee 

Ripens  the  first  pears  fer  me, 

And  the  "Prince's  Harvest"  they 

Tumble  to  me  where  I  lay 

In  the  clover,  provin'  still 

"A  boy's  will  is  the  wind's  will." 

Clean  fergot  is  time,  and  care, 

And  thick  hearin',  and  gray  hair— 

But  they's  nothin*  I  ferget 

'Mongst  the  Hills  o'  Somerset ! 

Middle-aged — to  be  edzact, 
Very  middle-aged,  in  fact, — 
Yet  a-thinkin'  back  to  then, 
I'm  the  same  wild  boy  again ! 


415 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

There's  the  dear  old  home  once  more, 
And  there's  Mother  at  the  door — 
Dead,  I  know,  fer  thirty  year', 
Yet  she's  singin',  and  I  hear ; 
And  there's  Jo,  and  Mary  Jane, 
And  Pap,  comin'  up  the  lane ! 
Dusk's  a-fallin';  and  the  dew, 
'Pears  like,  it's  a-fallin'  too — • 
Dreamin'  we're  all  livin'  yet 
'Mongst  the  Hills  o'  Somerset! 


215  Old  John  Henry 

OLD  John's  jes'  made  o'  the  commonest  stuff- 
Old  John  Henry- 
He's  tough,  I  reckon, — but  none  too  tough — 
Too  tough  though's  better  than  not  enough ! 

Says  old  John  Henry. 
He  does  his  best,  and  when  his  best's  bad, 
He  don't  fret  none,  ner  he  don't  git  sad — 
He  simply  'lows  it's  the  best  he  had : 
Old  John  Henry! 

His  doctern's  jes'  o'  the  plainest  brand — 

Old  John  Henry — 
A  smilin'  face  and  a  hearty  hand 
'S  religen  'at  all  folks  understand, 

Says  old  John  Henry. 
416 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

He's  stove  up  some  with  the  rhumatiz, 
And  they  hain't  no  shine  on  them  shoes  o'  his, 
And  his  hair  hain't  cut — but  his  eye-teeth  is : 
Old  John  Henry! 

He  feeds  hisse'f  when  the  stock's  all  fed- 
Old  John  Henry — 

And  sleeps  like  a  babe  when  he  goes  to  bed — 

And  dreams  o'  Heaven  and  home-made  bread, 
Says  old  John  Henry. 

He  hain't  refined  as  he'd  ort  to  be 

To  fit  the  statutes  o'  poetry, 

Ner  his  clothes  don't  fit  him — but  he  fits  me: 
Old  John  Henry  I 


216  Scotty 

SCOTT Y'S  dead.— Of  course  he  is! 
Jes'  that  same  old  luck  of  his ! — 
Ever  sence  we  went  cahoots 
He's  be'n  first,  you  bet  yer  boots ! 
When  our  schoolin'  first  begun, 
Got  two  whippin's  to  my  one : 
Stold  and  smoked  the  first  cigar : 
Stood  up  first  before  the  bar, 
Takin'  whisky-straight — and  me 
Wastiri'  time  on  "blackberry" ! 
Beat  me  in  the  Army,  too, 
And  clean  on  the  whole  way  through  !- 

417 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

In  more  scrapes  around  the  camp, 
And  more  troubles,  on  the  tramp : 
Fought  and  fell  there  by  my  side 
With  more  bullets  in  his  hide, 
And  more  glory  in  the  cause, — 
That's  the  kind  o'  man  he  was ! 
Luck  liked  Scotty  more'n  me. — 
7  got  married  :  Scotty,  he 
Never  even  would  apply 
Fer  the  pension-money  I 
Had  to  beg  of  "Uncle  Sam"— 
That's  the  kind  o'  cuss  /  am ! — 
Scotty  allus  first  and  best — 
Me  the  last  and  ornriest! 
Yit  fer  all  that's  said  and  done — 
All  the  battles  fought  and  won — 
We  hain't  prospered,  him  ner  me — 
Both  as  pore  as  pore  could  be, — 
Though  we've  allus,  up  tel  now, 
Stuck  together  anyhow — 
Scotty  allus,  as  I've  said, 
Luckiest — And  now  he's  dead! 


217  Back  from  TOTVH 

OLD  friends  allus  is  the  best, 
Halest-like  and  heartiest : 
Knowed  us  first,  and  don't  allow 
We're  so  blame  much  better  now  I 

4.8 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

They  was  standin'  at  the  bars 
When  we  grabbed  "the  kivvered  kyars" 
And  lit  out  fer  town,  to  make 
Money — and  that  old  mistake ! 

We  thought  then  the  world  we  went 
Into  beat  "The  Settlement," 
And  the  friends  'at  we'd  make  there 
Would  beat  any  anywhere ! — 
And  they  do — fer  that's  their  biz : 
They  beat  all  the  friends  they  is — 
'Cept  the  raa!  old  friends  like  you 
'At  staid  home,  like  I'd  ort  to ! 

W'y,  of  all  the  good  things  yit 
I  ain't  shet  of,  is  to  quit 
Business,  and  git  back  to  sheer 
These  old  comforts  waitin'  here — 
These  old  friends ;  and  these  old  hands 
'At  a  feller  understands ; 
These  old  winter  nights,  and  old 
Young- folks  chased  in  out  the  cold ! 

Sing  "Hard  Times'll  come  ag'in 
No  More !"  and  neighbers  all  jine  in ! 
Here's  a  feller  come  from  town 
Wants  that-air  old  fiddle  down 
From  the  chimbly ! — Git  the  floor 
Cleared  fer  one  cowtillion  more ! — 
It's  poke  the  kitchen  fire,  says  he, 
And  shake  a  friendly  leg  with  me ! 

419 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 
218       A  Man  by  the  Name  of  Bolus 

A  MAN  by  the  name  of  Bolus — (all  'at  we'll  ever  know 
Of  the  stranger's  name,   I  reckon — and   I'm  kind  o' 

glad  it's  so  !)  — 
Got  off  here,  Christmas  morning,  looked  'round  the  town, 

and  then 
Kind  o'  sized  up  the  folks,  I  guess,  and — went  away  again  ! 

The  f ac's  is,  this  man  Bolus  got  "run  in,"  Christmas-day ; 
The  town  turned  out  to  see  it,  and  cheered,  and  blocked  the 

way; 
And  they  dragged  him  'fore  the  Mayor — fer  he  couldn't  er 

zvouldn't  walk — 
And    socked   him   down    fer   trial — though    he   couldn't   cr 

wouldn't  talk ! 

Drunk?     They  was  no  doubt  of  it! — W'y,  the  marshal  of 

the  town 

Laughed  and  testified  'at  he  fell  «/>-stairs  'stid  o'  down! 
This  man  by  the  name  of  Bolus? — W'y,  he  even  drapped 

his  jaw 
And  snored  on  through  his  "hearin"' — drunk  as  you  ever 

saw ! 

One  feller  spit  in  his  boot-leg,  and  another  'n'  drapped  a 

small 
Little  chunk  o'  ice  down  his  collar, — but  he  didn't  wake  at 

all! 


420 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

And  they  all  nearly  split  when  his  Honor  said,  in  one  of  his 

witty  ways, 
To  "chalk  it  down  fer  him,  'Called  away — be  back  in  thirty 

days !' " 

That's  where  this  man  named  Bolus  slid,  kind  o'  like  in  a 

fit, 
Flat  on  the  floor ;  and — drat  my  ears !  I  hear  'em  a-laughin' 

yit! 

Somebody  fetched  Doc  Sifers  from  jes'  acrost  the  hall — 
And  all  Doc  said  was,  "Morphine!     We're  too  late!"  and 

that's  all! 

That's  how  they  found  his  name  out — piece  of  a  letter  'at 

read: 

"Your  wife  has  lost  her  reason,  and  little  Nathan's  dead-^ 
Come  ef  you  kin, — fergive  her — but,  Bolus,  as  fer  me, 
This  hour  I  send  a  bullet  through  where  my  heart  ort  to 

be!" 

Man  by  the  name  of  Bolus! — As  his  revilers  broke 

Fer  the  open  air,  'peared  like,  to  me,  I  heerd  a  voice  'at 

spoke — 

Man  by  the  name  of  Bolus!  git  up  from  where  you  lay — 
Git  up  and  smile  white  at  'em,  with  your  hands  crossed 

thataway! 


421 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 


219  Cuorcd  o'  Skeerin' 

E5H,  you  rickollect  that-air 
Dad-burn  skittish  old  bay  mare 
Was  no  livin'  with  ! — 'at  skeerd 
*T  ever'thing  she  seed  er  heerd ! — 
Th'owed  "Yes*  Anders,  and  th'owed  Pap, 
First  he  straddled  her — k-slap! — 
And  Izory — well ! — th'owed  her 
Hain't  no  tellin'  jest  how  fur! — 
Broke  her  collar-bone — and  might 
Jest  V  kilt  the  gyrl  outright ! 

Course  I'd  heerd  'em  make  their  boast 

She  th'ow  any  feller,  'most, 

Ever  topped  her !    S'  I,  "I  know 

One  man  'at  she'll  never  th'ow !" 

So  I  rid  her  in  to  mill, 

And,  jest  comin*  round  the  hill, 

Met  a  traction-engine! — Ort 

Jest  V  heerd  that  old  mare  snort, 

And  lay  back  her  yeers,  and  see 

Her  a-tryin'  to  th'ow  me! 

Course  I  never  said  a  word, 

But  thinks  I,  "My  ladybird, 

You'll  git  cuored,  right  here  and  now, 

Of  yer  dy-does  anyhow !" 

So  I  stuck  her— tel  she'd  jest 
Done  her  very  level  best ; 
Then  I  slides  off — strips  the  lines 
Over  her  fool-head,  and  finds 
422 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

Me  a  little  saplin'-gad, 
'Side  the  road  : — And  there  we  had 
Our  own  fun! — jest  wore  her  out! 
Mounted  her,  and  faced  about, 
And  jest  made  her  nose  that-air 
Little  traction-engine  there  I 


220  Home  Again 

I'M  bin  a-visitun  'bout  a  week 
To  my  little  Cousin's  at  Nameless  Creek ; 
An'  I'm  got  the  hives  an'  a  new  straw  hat, 
An'  I'm  come  back  home  where  my  beau  lives  at. 


423 


THE  BOOK  OF  JOYOUS  CHILDREN 


221         An  Impromptu  Fairy-Tale 

When  I  ivuz  1st  'a  little  bit  o'  wcenty-teenty  kid 
I  makes  up  a  Fairy-tale,  all  by  myse'f,  I  did: — 


WUNST  upon  a  time  wunst 
They  wuz  a  Fairy  King, 
An'  ever'thing  he  have  wuz  gold- 

His  clo'es,  an*  ever1  thing ! 
An'  all  the  other  Fairies 

In  his  goldun  Palace-hall 
Had  to  hump  an'  hustle — 
'Cause  he  wuz  bosst  of  all! 


He  have  a  goldun  trumput, 

An'  when  he  blow'  on  that, 
It's  a  sign  he  want'  his  boots, 

Er  his  coat  er  hat : 
They's  a  sign  fer  ever'thing, — 

An'  all  the  Fairies  knowed 
Ever'  sign,  an'  come  a-hoppin* 

When  the  King  blowed ! 

424 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 
in 

Wunst  he  bio  wed  an'  telled  'em  all : 

"Saddle  up  yer  bees — 
Fireflies  is  gittin'  fat 

An'  sassy  as  you  please ! — 
Guess  we'll  go  a-huntin' !" 

So  they  hunt'  a  little  bit, 
Till  the  King  blowed  "Supper-time," 

Nen  they  all  quit. 

IV 

Nen  they  have  a  Banqut 

In  the  Palace-hall, 
An'  ist  et !  an'  et !  an'  et ! 

Nen  they  have  a  Ball; 
An'  when  the  Queen  o'  Fairyland 

Come  p'omenadin'  through, 
The  King  says  an'  halts  her, — 

"Guess  I'll  marry  you !" 
•'ft  -•/          -n^bjf'l  I*?:.-;  ;->•;-!/  imtg  orij  v/oig  lanniriT 

222  Dream-March 

;  gnrn't^t  oi  03  smoz  ;  c?.^l  sni^fii;;  oJ  «yg  ornoS 

WASN'T  it  a  funny  dream  !— perfectly  bewild'rin' !— 
Last  night,  and  night  before,  and  night  before  that, 
Seemed  like  I  saw  the  march  o'  regiments  o'  children, 
Marching  to  the  robin's  fife  and  cricket's  rat-ta-tat! 
Lily-banners  overhead,  with  the  dew  upon  'em, 

On  flashed  the  little  army,  as  with  sword  and  flame ; 
Like  the  buzz  o'  bumble-wings,  with  the  honey  on  'em, 
Came  an  eery,  cheery  chant,  chiming  as  it  came :— ~ 

425 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Where  go  the  children?    Traveling!    Traveling! 

Where  go  the  children,  traveling  ahead? 
Some  go  to  kindergarten;  some  go  to  day-school; 

Some  go  to  night-school;  and  some  go  to  bed! 

Smooth  roads  or  rough  roads,  warm  or  winter  weather, 

On  go  the  children,  towhead  and  brown, 
Brave  boys  and  brave  girls,  rank  and  file  together, 

Marching  out  of  Morning-Land,  over  dale  and  down : 
Some  go  a-gipsying  out  in  country  places — 

Out  through  the  orchards,  with  blossoms  on  the  boughs, 
Wild,  sweet,  and  pink  and  white  as  their  own  glad  faces ; 

And  some  go,  at  evening,  calling  home  the  cows. 

Where  go  the  children?    Traveling!    Traveling! 

Where  go  the  children,  traveling  ahead? 
Some  go  to  foreign  wars,  and  camps  by  the  firelight — 

Some  go  to  glory  so;  and  some  go  to  bed! 

Some  go  through  grassy  lanes  leading  to  the  city- 
Thinner  grow  the  green  trees  and  thicker  grows  the  dust ; 

Ever,  though,  to  little  people  any  path  is  pretty 
So  it  leads  to  newer  lands,  as  they  know  it  must. 

Some  go  to  singing  less ;  some  go  to  list'ning ; 
Some  go  to  thinking  over  ever-nobler  themes ; 

Some  go  anhungered,  but  ever  bravely  whistling, 
Turning  never  home  again  only  in  their  dreams. 

Where  go  the  children?    Traveling!    Traveling! 

Where  go  the  children,  traveling  ahead? 
Some  go  to  conquer  things;  some  go  to  try  them; 

Some  go  to  dream  them;  and  some  go  to  bed! 

426 


THE   HOOS1ER   BOOK 


223  Elmer  Brown 


Jo 


A  WF'LEST  boy  in  this-here  town 
±\.  Er  anywheres  is  Elmer  Brown ! 
He'll  mock  you — yes,  an'  strangers,  too, 
An*  make  a  face  an'  yell  at  you, — 
''Here's  the  way  you  look !" 

Yes,  an'  wunst  in  School  one  day, 
An'  Teacher's  lookin*  wite  that  way, 
He  belt  his  slate,  an*  hide  his  head, 
An'  maked  a  face  at  her,  an'  said, — 
"Here's  the  way  you  look !" 

An'-sir !  when  Rosie  Wheeler  smile 
One  morning  at  him  'crosst  the  aisle, 
He  twist  his  face  all  up,  an'  black 
His  nose  wiv  ink,  an'  whisper  back,-^ 
"Here's  the  way  you  look !" 

Wunst  when  his  Aunt's  all  dressed  to  call 
An*  kiss  him  good-by  in  the  hall, 
An'  latch  the  gate  an*  start  away, 
He  holler  out  to  her  an'  say, — 
"Here's  the  way  you  look !" 

An*  when  his  Pa  he  read  out  loud 
The  speech  he  maked,  an'  feel  so  proud 
It's  in  the  paper — Elmer's  Ma 
She  ketched  him — wite  behind  his  Pa, — 
"Here's  the  way  you  look !" 
427 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Nen  when  his  Ma  she  slip  an'  take 
Him  in  the  other  room  an'  shake 
Him  good  !  w'y,  he  don't  care — no-sir! — 
He  ist  look  up  an'  laugh  at  her, — 
"Here's  the  way  you  look!" 


224     When  We  First  Played  "Shozv" 

WASN'T  it  a  good  time, 
Long  Time  Ago — 
When  we  all  were  little  tads 

And  first  played  "Show"  ! — 
When  every  newer  day 

Wore  as  bright  a  glow 
As  the  ones  we  laughed  away — • 
Long  Time  Ago ! 

Calf  was  in  the  back-lot ; 

Clover  in  the  red ; 
Bluebird  in  the  pear-tree ; 

Pigeons  on  the  shed ; 
Tom  a-chargin'  twenty  pins 

At  the  barn ;  and  Dan 
Spraddled  out  just  like  "The 

'Injarubber'-Man !" 

Me  and  Bub  and  Rusty, 

Eck  and  Dunk  and  Sid 

Tumblin'  on  the  sawdust 
Like  the  A-rabs  did; 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Jamesy  on  the  slack-rope 

In  a  wild  retreat, 
Grappling  back,  to  start  again — 

When  he  chalked  his  feet ! 

Wasn't  Eck  a  wonder, 

In  his  stocking-tights? 

Wasn't  Dunk — his  leaping  lion — 
Chief  of  all  delights? 

Yes,  and  wasn't  "Little  Mack" 
Boss  of  all  the  Show, — 

Both  Old  Clown  and  Candy-Butcher- 
Long  Time  Ago! 

Sid  the  Bareback-Rider ; 

And — oh-me-oh-wry  / — 
Bub,  the  spruce  Ring-Master, 

Stepping  round  so  spry! — 
In  his  little  waist-and-trousers 

All  made  in  one, 
Was  there  a  prouder  youngster 

Under  the  sun! 

And  NOW — who  will  tell  me, — 

Where  are  they  all? 
Dunk's  a  sanatorium  doctor, 

Up  at  Waterfall ; 
Sid's  a  city  street-contractor; 

Tom  has  fifty  clerks; 
And  Jamesy  he's  the  "Iron  Magnate" 

Of  "The  Hecla  Works." 


429 


THE  HOOSIER   BOOK 


And  Bub's  old  and  bald  now, 

Yet  still  he  hangs  on, — 
Dan  and  Eck  and  "Little  Mack," 

Long,  long  gone ! 
But  wasn't  it  a  good  time, 

Long  Time  Ago — 
When  we  all  were  little  tads 

And  first  played  "Show" ! 


225  The  Rambo-Tree 

* 

WHEN  Autumn  shakes  the  rambo-tree — 
It's  a  long,  sweet  way  across  the  orchard !- 
The  bird  sings  low  as  the  bumble  bee — 

It's  a  long,  sweet  way  across  the  orchard ! — 
The  poor  shote-pig  he  says,  says  he : 
"When  Autumn  shakes  the  rambo-tree 
There's  enough  for  you  and  enough  for  me." — • 
It's  a  long,  sweet  way  across  the  orchard. 

For  just  two  truant  lads  like  we, 
When  Autumn  shakes  the  rambo-tree 
There's  enough  for  you  and  enough  for  me — 
It's  a  long,  sweet  way  across  the  orchard. 

When  Autumn  shakes  the  rambo-tree — 

It's  a  long,  sweet  way  across  the  orchard ! — 

The  mole  digs  out  to  peep  and  see — 

It's  a  long,  sweet  way  across  the  orchard ! — 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

The  dusk  sags  down,  and  the  moon  swings  free, 
There's  a  far,  lorn  call,  "Pig-gee!     Pig-gee!" 
And  two  boys — glad  enough  for  three. — 
It's  a  long,  sweet  way  across  the  orchard. 

For  just  two  truant  lads  like  we, 
When  Autumn  shakes  the  rambo-tree 
There's  enough  for  you  and  enough  for  me — 
It's  a  long,  sweet  way  across  the  orchard. 


2?,6  Extremes 


A  LITTLE  boy  once  played  so  loud 
That  the  Thunder,  up  in  a  thunder-cloud, 
Said,  "Since  7  can't  be  heard,  why,  then 
I'll  never,  never  thunder  again !" 


And  a  little  girl  once  kept  so  still 
That  she  heard  a  fly  on  the  window-sill 
Whisper  and  say  to  a  lady-bird, 
"She's  the  stilliest  child  I  ever  heard !" 


431 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


227  Intellectual  Limitations 

rx.    .,.-,,,     ^..-^-p      fiftc  [     i 

PARUNTS  knows  lots  more  than  us, 
But  they  don't  know  all  things, — 
'Cause  we  ketch  'em,  lots  o'  times, 
Even  on  little  small  things. 

One  time  Winnie  ask'  her  Ma, 

At  the  winder,  sewin', 
What's  the  wind  a-doin'  when 

It's  a-not  a-blowin'f 

Yes,  an'  'Del',  that  very  day. 

When  we're  nearly  froze  out, 
He  ask*  Uncle  where  it  goes 

When  the  fire  goes  out? 

Nen  7  run  to  ask  my  Pa, 

That  way,  somepin'  funny; 
But  I  can't  say  ist  but  "Say," 
When  he  turn  to  me  an'  say, 
"Well,  what  is  it,  Honey?" 


228 \  Thomas  the  Pretender 

TOMMY'S  alluz  playin'  jokes, 
An'  actin'  up,  an*  foolin'  folks ; 
An'  wunst  one  time  he  creep 
In  Pa's  big  chair,  he  did,  one  night, 
An'  squint  an'  shut  his  eyes  bofe  tight, 
An'  say,  "Now  I'm  asleep." 
432 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  nen  we  knowed,  an'  Ma  know'  too, 
He  ain't  asleep  no  more'n  you ! 

An'  wunst  he  clumbed  on  our  back-fence 
An'  flop  his  arms  an'  nen  commence 

To  crow,  like  he's  a  hen ; 
But  when  he  failed  off,  like  he  done, 
He  didn't  fool  us  childern  none, 

Ner  didn't  crow  again. 
An'  our  Hired  Man,  as  he  come  by, 
Says,  "Tom  can't  crow,  but  he  kin  cry." 

An*  one  time  wunst  Tom  'tend'-like  he's 
His  Pa  an'  goin'  to  rob  the  bees ; 

An',  first  he  know — oh,  dear  ! 
They  ist  come  swarmin'  out  o'  there 
An'  sting  him,  an'  stick  in  his  hair — 

An'  one  got  in  his  yeer ! — 
An'  Uncle  sigh  an'  say  to  Ma, 
An'  grease  the  welts,  'Tore  Pa !  pore  Pa !' 


229          Little  Dick  and  the  Clock 

WHEN  Dicky  was  sick 
In  the  night,  and  the  clock, 
As  he  listened,  said  "Tick- 

Atty— tick-atty— tock !" 
He  said  that  it  said, 

Every  time  it  said  "Tick," 
It  said  "Sick,"  instead, 

433 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

And  he  heard  it  say  "Sick !'! 
And  when  it  said  "Tick- 

Atty— tick-atty— tock," 
He  said  it  said  "Sick- 

Atty — sick-atty — sock !" 
And  he  tried  to  see  then, 

But  the  light  was  too  dim. 
Yet  he  heard  it  again — 

And  'twas  talking  to  him  1 

And  then  it  said  "Sick- 

Atty — sick-atty — sick ! 
You  poor  little  Dick- 

Atty— Dick-atty— Dick  !— 
Have  you  got  the  hick- 

Atties?    Hi!  send  for  Doc 
To  hurry  up  quick- 

Atty — quick-atty — quock, 
And  heat  a  hot  brick- 

Atty — brick-atty — brock, 
And  rickle-ty  wrap  it 
And  clickle-ty  clap  it 

Against  his  cold  feet- 

Al-ty — weep-aty — eepaty- 
There  he  goes,  slapit- 

Ty — slippaty — sleepaty !" 


434 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


230  Fool-Young  ens 

ME  an'  Bert  an'  Minnie-Belle 
Knows  a  joke,  an'  we  won't  telK 
No,  we  don't — 'cause  we  don't  know 
Why  we  got  to  laughin'  so ; 
But  we  got  to  laughin'  so, 
We  ist  kep'  a-laughin'o 

Wind  wuz  blowin'  in  the  tree — 
An*  wuz  only  ist  us  three 
Playin'  there ;  an*  ever'  one 
Ketched  each  other,  like  we  done, 
Squintin*  up  there  at  the  sun 
Like  we  wuz  a-laughin*. 

Nothin*  funny  anyway ; 
But  I  laughed,  an'  so  did  they — 
An'  we  all  three  laughed,  an'  nen 
Squint'  our  eyes  an'  laugh'  again : 
Ner  we  didn't  ist  p'ten' — 

We  wuz  shore-'nough  laughin'' 

We  ist  laugh'  an'  laugh',  tel  Bert 
Say  he  can't  quit  an'  it  hurt. 
Nen  I  howl,  an'  Minnie-Belle 
She  tear  up  the  grass  a  spell 
An'  ist  stop  her  yeers  an'  yell 
Like  she'd  die  a-laughin'. 


435 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

Never  sich  fool-youngens  yit ! 
Nothin'  funny, — not  a  bit ! — 
But  we  laugh'  so,  tel  we  whoop' 
Purt'  nigh  like  we  have  the  croup — 
All  so  hoarse  we'd  wheeze  an'  whoop 
An'  ist  choke  a-laughin'. 


231  Billy  and  His  Drum 

HO  !  it's  come,  kids,  come ! 
With  a  bim  !  bam  !  bum  ! 
Here's  little  Billy  bangin'  on  his 

big  bass  drum ! 

He's  a-marchin'  round  the  room, 
With  his  feather-duster  plume 
A-noddin'  an'  a-bobbin'  with  his 
bim!  bom!  boom! 

Looky,  little  Jane  an'  Jim ! 
Will  you  only  look  at  him, 
A-humpin'  an'  a-thumpin'  with  his 

bam  !  bom  !  bim  ! 
Has  the  Day  o'  Judgment  come 
Er  the  New  Mi-len-nee-um  ? 
Er  is  it  only  Billy  with  his 

bim  !  bam  !  bum  ! 

I'm  a-comin' ;  yes,  I  am — 
Jim  an'  Sis,  an'  Jane  an'  Sam ! 
We'll  all  march  off  with  Billy  an'  his 
bom  !  bim  !  bam  ! 

436 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Come  hurratt/in'  as  you  come, 
Er  the}''ll  think  you're  deef-an'-dumb 
Ef  you  don't  hear  little  Billy  an'  his 
big  bass  drum ! 


132  The  Noble  Old  Elm 

OBIG  OLD  TREE,  so  tall  an'  fine, 
Where  all  us  childern  swings  an'  plays, 
Though  neighbers  says  you're  on  the  line 

Between  Pa's  house  an'  Mr.  Gray's,— 
Us  childern  used  to  almost  fuss, 

Old  Tree,  about  you  when  we'd  play. 
We'd  argy  you  belonged  to  us, 
An'  them  Gray-kids  the  other  way ! 

Till  Elsie,  one  time  she  wuz  here 

An'  playin'  wiv  us — Don't  you  mind, 
Old  Mister  Tree  ? — an'  purty  near 

She  scolded  us  the  hardest  kind 
Fer  quar'llin*  'bout  you  thataway, 

An'  say  she'll  find — ef  we'll  keep  still — • 
Whose  tree  you  air  fer  shore,  she  say, 

An'  settle  it  fer  good,  she  will ! 

So  all  keep  still :  An'  nen  she  gone 
An'  pat  the  Old  Tree,  an'  says  she, — 

"Whose  air  you,  Tree  ?"  an'  nen  let  on 
Like  she's  a-list'nin'  to  the  Tree, — 

437 


THE   HOOSIKR   BOOK 

An'  nen  she  say,  "It's  settled, — 'cause 
The  Old  Tree  says  he's  all  our  tree— 

His  trunk  belongs  to  bofe  your  Pas, 
But  shade  belongs  to  you  an'  me." 


The  Penalty  of  Genius 

WHEN  little  'Pollus  Morton  he's 
A-go'  to  speak  a  piece,  w'y,  nei?. 
The  Teacher  smiles  an'  says  'at  she's 

Most  proud,  of  all  her  little  men 
An*  women  in  her  school — 'cause  'Poll 
He  allus  speaks  the  best  of  all. 

An'  nen  she'll  pat  him  on  the  cheek, 
An'  hold  her  finger  up  at  you 

Before  he  speak' ;  an'  when  he  speak' 
It's  ist  some  piece  she  learn'  him  to ! 

'Cause  he's  her  favor-ite.    .    .    .    An'  she 

Ain't  pop'lar  as  she  ust  to  be ! 

When  'Pollus  Morton  speaks,  w'y,  nen 
Ist  all  the  other  childern  knows 

They're  smart  as  him  an'  smart-again ! — 
Ef  they  can't  speak  an'  got  fine  clo'es, 

Their  Parunts  loves  'em  more'n  'Poll- 

Us  Morton,  Teacher,  speech,  an'  all ! 

438 


THE   HOOS1ER   BOOK 
234.    The  Good,  Old-Fashioned  People 

WHEN  we  hear  Uncle  Sidney  tell 
About  the  long-ago 
An'  old,  old  friends  he  loved  so  well 

When  he  was  young — My-oh  ! — 
Us  childern  all  wish  we'd  'a'  bin 

A-livin'  then  with  Uncle, — so 
We  could  a-kind  o'  happened  in 

On  them  old  friends  he  used  to  know  !- 
The  good,  old-fashioned  people — 
The  hale,  hard-working  people — 
The  kindly  country  people 
'At  Uncle  used  to  know  1 

They  was  God's  people,  Uncle  says, 

An'  gloried  in  His  name,  t  • 

An*  worked,  without  no  selfishness, 

An'  loved  their  neighbers  same 
As  they  was  kin  :  An'  when  they  biled 

Their  tree-molasses,  in  the  Spring, 
Er  butchered  in  the  Fall,  they  smiled 
An'  sheered  with  all  jist  ever'thing! — 
The  good,  old-fashioned  people — 
The  hale,  hard-working  people — 
The  kindly  country  people 
'At  Uncle  used  to  know ! 

He  tells  about  'em,  lots  o'  times, 

Till  we'd  all  ruther  hear 
About  'em  than  the  Nurs'ry  Rhymes 

Er  Fairies — mighty  near ! — 
439 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Only  sometimes  he  stops  so  long 

An'  then  talks  on  so  low  an'  slow, 
It's  purt'  nigh  sad  as  any  song 
To  listen  to  him  talkin'  so 

Of  the  good,  old-fashioned  people — 
The  hale,  hard-working  people — 
The  kindly  country  people 
'At  Uncle  used  to  know ! 


A  Christmas  Memory 

PA  he  bringed  me  here  to  stay 
Til  my  Ma  she's  well.— An'  nen. 
He's  go'  hitch  up,  Chris'mus-day, 

An'  come  take  me  back  again 
Wher'  my  Ma's  at !  Won't  I  be 
Tickled  when  he  com^^  f er  me  1 

My  Ma  an'  my  A'nty  they 

'Uz  each-uvver's  sisters.    Pa — 

A'nty  telled  me,  th'  other  day,— 

He  corned  here  an'  married  Ma.    .    .    . 

A'nty  said  nen,  "Go  run  play, 

I  must  work  now !"    .    .    .    An'  I  saw, 

WThen  she  turn'  her  face  away, 
She  'uz  cryin'. — An'  nen  I 
Tend-like  I  "run  play"— an'  cry. 

440 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

This-here  house  o'  A'nty's  wher' 
They  'uz  horned — my  Ma  an'  her  ! — • 
An'  her  Ma  'uz  my  Ma's  Ma, 
An*  her  Pa  'uz  my  Ma's  Pa — 
Ain't  that  funny  ? — An'  they're  dead  : 
An*  this-here's  "th'  ole  Homestead." — 
An'  my  A'nty  said,  an'  cried, 
It's  mine,  too,  ef  my  Ma  died — 
Don't  know  what  she  mean — 'cause  my 
Ma  she's  nuvver  go'  to  die ! 


When  Pa  bringed  me  here  't  Juz  night — 

'Way  dark  night !    An'  A'nty  spread 
Me  a  piece — an'  light  the  light 

An*  say  I  must  go  to  bed. — 

I  cry  not  to — but  Pa  said, 
"Be  good  boy  now,  like  you  telled 

Mommy  'at  you're  go'  to  be !" 

An',  when  he  'uz  kissin'  me 

My  good  night,  his  cheek's  all  wet 
An'  taste  salty.— An'  he  held 

Wite  close  to  me  an'  rocked  some 

An'  laughed-like — 'til  A'nty  come 
Git  me  while  he's  rockin'  yet. 

A'nty  he'p  me,  'til  I  be 
Purt'  nigh  strip-pud — nen  hug  me 
In  bofe  arms  an'  HP  me  'way 
Up  in  her  high  bed — an'  pray 

Wiv  me, — 'bout  my  Ma — an'  Pa — 
An'  ole  Santy  Clans — an'  Sleigh — 


441 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  Reindeers  an'  little  Drum- 
Yes,  an'  Picture-books,  'Tom  Thumb," 
An'  "Three  Bears,"  an'  ole  "Fee-Faw"— 
Yes,  an'  "Tweedle-Dee"  an'  "Dum," 
An'  "White  Knight"  an'  "Squidjicum," 
An*  most  things  you  ever  saw  !— 
An'  when  A'nty  kissed  me,  she 
'Uz  all  cryin*  over  me ! 
vm  5?.U!Yi' — fiBtmi  -jif«  Jjsilw  WOHJ!  J'noCI 

Don't  want  Santy  Claus— ner  things 

Any  kind  he  ever  brings  ! — 

Don't  want  A'nty !— Don't  want  Pa  !— 

I  ist  only  want  my  Ma ! 

irfgil  an)  JifgH  'nj;— wjiq  &  M 
— .bod  of  03  Jaunt  I  W  'nA 

2 $6  "Old  Bob  White" 

OLD  Bob  White's  a  funny  bird  !— 
Funniest  you  ever  heard  !— 
Hear  him  whistle,— "Old— Bob—  White!" 
You  can  hear  him,  clean  from  where 
He's  'way  'crosst  the  wheat-field  there, 
Whistlin'  like  he  didn't  care— 

"Old— Bob— White!" 

Whistles  alluz  ist  the  same— 
So's  we  won't  f  ergit  his  name  !— 

Hear  him  say  it  ?— "Old— Bob—  White !" 
There!  he's  whizzed  off  down  the  lane- 
Gone  back  where  his  folks  is  stayin'— 
Hear  him  ?— There  he  goes  again,— 
"Old— Bob— White !" 
442 


THE   HOOSIER    BOOK 

When  boys  ever  tries  to  git 
Clos't  to  him  —  how  quick  he'll  quit 

Whistlin'  his  "Old—  Bob—  White!" 
"Whoo-rhoo-rhoo!"  he's  up  an'  flew, 
1st  a-purt'  nigh  skeerin'  you 
Into  fits  !—  'At's  what  he'll  do.— 
"Old—  Bob—  White!" 

.Hha  <\wA  vJnO 


Wunst  our  Hired  Man  an'  me, 
When  we  drove  to  Harmony, 

Saw  one,  whistlin'  "Old—  Bob—  White!" 
An'  we  drove  wife  clos't,  an'  I 
Saw  him  an'  he  didn't  fly,  — 
Birds  likes  horses,  an'  that's  why. 

"Old—  Bob—  White!" 
,  .D<X.//  r  -.-.••   fr:    attjriw    .omod   movl 

One  time,  Uncle  Sidney  says, 
Wunst  he  rob'  a  Bob  White's  nes' 

Of  the  eggs  of  "Old  Bob  White"; 
Nen  he  hatched  'em  wiv  a  hen 
An'  her  little  chicks,  an'  nen 
They  ist  all  flewed  off  again  ! 

"Old—  Bob—  White!" 
rtt  ft.*nf  -«rfb  >    rfPaoif-rriri  "nitf"      oh  Mo  ir.- 


,?J7       ^4  Session  with  Uncle  Sidney 

vfi»&i>rjg  Hn—  rro^).  TOv>  htrl  s/cx!  37/ 

ONE   OF    HIS   ANIMAL    STORIES 

NOW,  Tudens,  you  sit  on  this  knee  —  and  'sense 
It  having  no  side-saddle  on  ;  —  and,  Jeems, 
You  sit  on  this  —  and  don't  you  wobble  so 
And  chug  my  old  shins  with  your  coppertoes  ;  — 
443 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And,  all  the  rest  of  you,  range  round  someway, — 

Ride  on  the  rockers  and  hang  to  the  arms 

Of  our  old-time  splint-bottom  carryall! — 

Do  anything  but  squabble  for  a  place, 

Or  push  or  shove  or  scrouge,  or  breathe  out  loud, 

Or  chew  wet,  or  knead  taffy  in  my  beard ! — 

Do  anything  almost — act  anyway, — 

Only  keep  still,  so  I  can  hear  myself 

Trying  to  tell  you  "just  one  story  more!" 

One  winter  afternoon  my  father,  with 

A  whistle  to  our  dog,  a  shout  to  us — 

His  two  boys — six  and  eight  years  old  we  were,— 

Started  off  to  the  woods,  a  half  a  mile 

From  home,   where   he   was   chopping  wood.     We   raced 

We  slipped  and  slid ;  reaching,  at  last,  the  north 

Side  of  Tharp's  corn-field. — There  we  struck  what  seeme< 

To  be  a  coon-track — so  we  all  agreed: 

And  father,  who  was  not  a  hunter,  to 

Our  glad  surprise,  proposed  we  follow  it. 

The  snow  was  quite  five  inches  deep ;  and  we, 

Keen  on  the  trail,  were  soon  far  in  the  woods. 

Our  old  dog,  "Ring,"  ran  nosing  the  fresh  track 

With  whimpering  delight,  far  on  ahead. 

After  following  the  trail  more  than  a  mile 

To  northward,  through  the  thickest  winter  woods 

We  boys  had  ever  seen, — all  suddenly 

He  seemed  to  strike  another  trail ;  and  then 

Our  joyful  attention  was  drawn  to 

Old  "Ring" — leaping  to  this  side,  then  to  that, 

Of  a  big,  hollow,  old  oak-tree,  which  had 

Been  blown  clown  by  a  storm  some  years  before. 

444 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

There — all  at  once — out  leapt  a  lean  old  fox 
From  the  black  hollow  of  a  big  bent  limb, — 
Hey!  how  he  scudded! — but  with  our  old  "Ring" 
Sharp  after  him — and  father  after  "Ring" — 
We  after  father,  near  as  we  could  hold. 
And  father  noticed  that  the  fox  kept  just 
About  four  feet  ahead  of  "Ring" — just  that — 
No  farther,  and  no  nearer  !    Then  he  said  : — 
"There  are  young  foxes  in  that  tree  back  there, 
And  the  mother-fox  is  drawing  'Ring'  and  us 
Away  from  their  nest  there !"    "Oh,  le'  's  go  back  !— 
Do  le'  's  go  back !"  we  little  vandals  cried, — 
"Le'  's  go  back,  quick,  and  find  the  little  things — 
Please,  father !— Yes,  and  take  'em  home  for  pets— 
'Cause  'Ring'  he'll  kill  the  old  fox  anyway !" 

So  father  turned  at  last,  and  back  we  went, 
And  then  he  chopped  a  hole  in  the  old  tree 
About  ten  feet  along  the  limb  from  which 
The  old  fox  ran,  and — Bless  their  little  lives ! — 
There,  in  the  hollow  of  the  old  tree-trunk— 
There,  on  a  bed  of  warm  dry  leaves  and  moss — 
There,  snug  as  any  bug  in  any  rug— 
We    found — one — two — three — four,   and,   yes-sir,   five 
Wee,  weenty-teenty  baby  foxes,  with 
Their  eyes  just  barely  opened— Cu tef— my-oh  !— 
The  cutest — the  most  cunning  little  things 
Two  boys  ever  saw,  in  all  their  lives ! — 
"Raw  weather  for  the  little  fellows  now!" 
Said  father,  as  though  talking  to  himself, — 
"Raw  weather,  and  no  home  now!"— And  off  came 
His  warm  old  "waumus";  and  in  that  he  wrapped 
Tli*  helpless  little  fellows,  and  held 
445 


THE   IIOOSIKR   BOOK 

Them  soft  and  warm  against  him  as  he  could, — 
And  home  we  happy  children  followed  him. — 

Old  "Ring"  did  not  reach  home  till  nearly  dusk : 
The  mother-fox  had  led  him  a  long  chase — 
"Yes,  and  a  fool's  chase,  too !"  he  seemed  to  say, 
And  looked  ashamed  to  hear  us  praising  him. 
But,  mother — well,  we  could  not  understand 
Her  acting  as  she  did — and  we  so  pleased! 
I  can  see  yet  the  look  of  pained  surprise 
And  deep  compassion  of  her  troubled  face 
When  father  very  gently  laid  his  coat, 
With  the  young  foxes  in  it,  on  the  hearth 
Beside  her,  as  she  brightened  up  the  fire. 
She  urged — for  the  old  fox's  sake  and  theirs — 
That  they  be  taken  back  to  the  old  tree  ; 
But  father — for  our  wistful  sakes,  no  doubt — 
Said  we  would  keep  them,  and  would  try  our  best 
To  raise  them.    And  at  once  he  set  about 
Building  a  snug  home  for  the  little  things 
Out  of  an  old  big  bushel-basket,  with 
Its  fractured  handle  and  its  stoven  ribs : 
So,  lining  and  padding  this  all  cozily, 
He  snuggled  in  its  little  tenants,  and 
Called  in  John  Wesley  Thomas,  our  hired  man, 
And  gave  him  in  full  charge,  with  much  advice 
Regarding  the  just  care  and  sustenance  of 
Young  foxes. — "John,"  he  said,  "you  feed  'em  milk — 
Warm  milk,  John  Wesley !    Yes,  and  keep  'em  by 
The  stove — and  keep  your  stove  a-roarin',  too, 
Both  night  and  day ! — And  keep  'em  covered  up — 
Not  smothered,  John,  but  snug  and  comfortable. — 
And  now,  John  Wesley  Thomas,  first  and  last, — 
446 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

You  feed  'em  milk — fresh  milk — and  always  warm — 

Say  five  or  six  or  seven  times  a  day — 

Of  course  we'll  grade  that  by  the  way  they  thrive." 

But,  for  all  sanguine  hope,  and  care,  as  well, 

The  little  fellows  did  not  thrive  at  all.— 

Indeed,  with  all  our  care  and  vigilance, 

By  the  third  day  of  their  captivity 

The  last  survivor  of  the  fated  five 

Squeaked,  like  some  battered  little  rubber  toy 

Just  clean  wore  out. — And  that's  just  what  it  wuz  ! 

And — nights, — the  cry  of  the  mother-fox   for  her  young 

Was  heard,  with  awe,  for  long  weeks  afterward. 

And  we  boys,  every  night,  would  go  to  the  door 

And,  peering  out  in  the  darkness,  listening, 

Could  hear  the  poor  fox  in  the  black  bleak  woods 

Still  calling  for  her  little  ones  in  vain. 

As,  all  mutely,  we  returned  to  the  warm  fireside, 

Mother  would  say:   "How  would  you  like  for  me 

To  be  out  there,  this  dark  night,  in  the  cold  woods, 

Calling  for  my  children?" 


n 


UNCLE  BRIGHTENS   UP 

Uncle  he  says  'at  'way  down  in  the  sea 

Ever'thing's  ist  like  it  used  to  be : — 

He  says  they's  mermaids,  an'  mermens,  too, 

An'  little  merchildern,  like  me  an'  you — 

Little  merboys,  with  tops  an'  balls, 

An'  little  mergirls,  with  little  merdolls. 


447 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


in 


A   PET   OF    UNCLE    SIDNEY  S 

,IIW  £ij  \3~iL')  bsifi '- ,oqof{  'Srmj-grtfis  Us  mi  vi; 
Uncle  Sidney's  vurry  proud 

Of  little  Leslie-Janey, 
'Cause  she's  so  smart,  an'  goes  to  school 

Clean  'way  in  Pennsylvany ! 

She  print'  an'  sent  a  postul-card 

To  Uncle  Sidney,  telling 
How  glad  he'll  be  to  hear  that  she 

"Toock  the  onners  in  Speling." 


IV 


IN    THE    KINDERGARTEN    OF    NOBLE    SONG 

Uncle  he  learns  us  to  rhyme  an'  write 
An'  all  be  poets  an'  all  recite : 
His  little-est  poet's  his  little-est  niece, 
An'  this  is  her  little-est  poetry-piece. 


SINGS  A  "WINKY-TOODEN"  SONG — 

O  here's  a  little  rhyme  for  the  Spring- 

or  Summer-time — • 
An'  a-ho-winky-tooden-an'-a-ho ! — 
Just  a  little  bit  o'  tune  you  can  twitter,  May 

or  June, 

448 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  a-ho-winky-tooden-an'-a-ho ! 

It's  a  song  that  soars  and  sings, 

As  the  birds  that  twang  their  wings 

Or  the  katydids  and  things 
Thus  and  so,  don't  you  know, 
An'  a-ho-winky-tooden-an'-a-ho ! 

It's  a  song  just  broken  loose,  with  no  reason 

or  excuse — 
An'  a-ho-winky-tooden-an'-a-ho ! 

You  can  sing  along  with  it — or  it  matters  not 

a  bit- 
An'  a-ho-winky-tooden-an'-a-ho ! 

It's  a  lovely  little  thing 

That  'most  any  one  could  sing 

With  a  ringle-dingle-ding, 

Soft  and  low,  don't  you  know, 
An'  a-ho-winky-tooden-an'-a-ho ! 


238        In  Fervent  Praise  of  Picnics 

PICNICS  is  fun  'at's  purty  hard  to  beat 
I  purt'  nigh  ruther  go  to  them  than  eat 
I  purt'  nigh  ruther  go  to  them  than  go 
With  our  Char/o tty  to  the  Trick-Dog  Show! 


449 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


Climatic  Sorcery 


WHEN  frost's  all  on  our  winder,  an'  the  snows 
All  out-o'-doors,  our  rtOld-Kriss"-milkman  goes 
A-drivin'  round,  ist  purt'  nigh  froze  to  death, 
With  his  old  white  mustache  froze  full  o'  breath. 

But  when  it's  summer  an*  all  warm  ag'in, 
He  comes  a-whistlin'  an'  a-drivin'  in 
Our  alley,  'thout  no  coat  on,  ner  ain't  cold, 
Ner  his  mustache  ain't  white,  ner  he  ain't  old. 


240  A  Dubious  "Old  Kriss" 

US-FOLKS  is  purty  pore— but  Ma 
She's  waitin'— two  years  more— tet  Pa 
He  serve  his  term  out.    Our  Pa  he — 
Pie's  in  the  Penitenchurrie! 

Now  don't  you  tell ! — 'cause  Sis, 
The  baby,  she  don't  know  he  is. — 
'Cause  she  wuz  only  four,  you  know, 
He  kissed  her  last  an'  hat  to  go ! 

!  '//odR   5JoQ->lor'lT  3'ffj  o)' Yf^'  \~;,'  i!    !     EH   •   ;!?   'if 

Pa  alluz  liked  Sis  best  of  all 
Us  childern. — 'Spect  it's  'cause  she  fall 
When  she  'uz  ist  a  child,  one  day — 
An'  make  her  back  look  thataway. 
450 


THE  HOOSIER   BOOK 

Pa — 'fore  he  be  a  burglar — he's 
A  locksmiff,  an'  maked  locks,  an*  keys, 
An'  knobs  you  pull  fer  bells  to  ring, 
An'  he  could  ist  make  anything! — 

'Cause  our  Ma  say  he  can ! — An'  this 
Here  little  pair  o'  crutches  Sis 
Skips  round  on — Pa  maked  them — yes-sir  !- 
An'  silivur-plate-name  here  fer  her ! 

Pa's  out  o'  work  when  Chris'mus  come 
One  time,  an'  stay  away  from  home, 
An'  's  drunk  an'  'btise  our  Ma,  an'  swear 
They  ain't  no  "Old  Kriss"  anywhere ! 

An'  Sis  she  alluz  say  they  wuz 
A'  Old  Kriss — an'  she  alluz  does. 
But  ef  they  is  a'  Old  Kriss,  why, 
When's  Chris'mus,  Ma  she  alluz  cry? 

This  Chris'mus  now,  we  live  here  in 
Where  Ma's  rent's  alluz  due  ag'in — • 
An*  she  "ist  slaves" — I  heerd  her  say 
She  did — ist  them  words  thataway ! 

An*  th'other  night,  when  all's  so  cold 
An*  stove's  'most  out — our  Ma  she  rolled 
Us  in  th'  old  feather-bed  an'  said, 
"To-morry's  Chris'mus — go  to  bed, 


451 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

"An*  thank  yer  blessed  stars  fer  this — 
We  don't  'sped  nothin'  from  Old  Kriss !" 
An'  cried,  an1  locked  the  door,  an*  prayed, 
An*  turned  the  lamp  down.    .    .    .    An*  I  laid 

There,  thinkin'  in  the  dark  ag'in, 
"Ef  wuz  Old  Kriss,  he  can't  git  in, 
'Cause  ain't  no  chimbly  here  at  all — 
1st  old  stovepipe  stuck  f  rue  the  wall !" 

I  sleeped  nen. — An*  wuz  dreamin'  some 
When  I  waked  up  an'  morning's  come, — 
Fer  our  Ma  she  wuz  settin'  square 
Straight  up  in  bed,  a-readin'  there 

Some  letter  'at  she'd  read,  an'  quit, 
An'  nen  hold  like  she's  huggin'  it. — 
An'  diamon*  ear-rings  she  don't  know 
Wuz  in  her  ears  tel  I  say  so — 

m  979ff  r*vil  ow  twott  2mn'ah<D  8frfT 
An*  wake  the  rest  up.  An'  the  sun 

In  f  rue  the  winder  dazzle-un 
Them  eyes  o'  Sis's,  wiv  a  sure- 
Enough  gold  chain  Old  Kriss  bringed  to  'cr ! 

I>fp3  .  '!••>;  Tto'sfj  *f;A 

An'  all  of  us  git  gold  things ! — Sis, 
Though,  she  say  she  know  it  "ain't  Old  Kriss— 
He  kissed  her,  so  she  waked  an'  saw 
Him  skite  out — an'  it  wuz  her  Pa." 


452 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


241  The  Jaybird 


THE  Jaybird  he's  my  favorite 
Of  all  the  birds  they  is! 
I  think  he's  quite  a  stylish  sight 

In  that  blue  suit  of  his: 
An'  when  he  'lights  an'  shuts  his  wings, 

His  coat's  a  "cutaway"  — 
I  guess  it's  only  when  he  sings 

You'd  know  he  wuz  a  jay. 

fu>i'3"/I  'it-.;i  n'^igfi  Jb?o3i  91'-:--  -4*H»1    >M 
I  like  to  watch  him  when  he's  lit 

In  top  of  any  tree, 
'Cause  all  birds  git  wite  out  of  it 

When  he  'lights,  an'  they  see 
How  proud  he  act',  an'  swell  an*  spread 

His  chest  out  more  an'  more, 
An*  raise  the  feathers  on  his  head 

Like  it's  cut  pompadore  ! 


242  A  Bear  Family 

!  jihjn  Ji!i>*  £&!fi33  'nA—  !  I>j»cn  oa  si/y/  s 

WUNZT,  'way  West  in  Illinoise, 
Wuz  two  Bears  an'  their  two  boys  : 
An'  the  two  boys'  names,  you  know, 
Wuz  —  like  ours  is,  —  Jim  an'  Jo  ; 
An*  their  parunts'  names  wuz  same's 
All  big  grown-up  people's  names,  — 
1st  M\z  Bear,  the  neigmSers  call 
'Em,  an'  Mister  Bear—  'at's  all. 

453 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Yes — an'  Miz  Bear  scold  him,  too, 

1st  like  grown  folks  shouldn't  dol 

Wuz  a  grea'-big  river  there, 

An',  'crosst  that,  's  a  mountain  where 

Old  Bear  said  some  day  he'd  go, 

Ef  she  don't  quit  scoldin'  so ! 

So,  one  day  when  he  been  down 

The  river,  fish  in*,  'most  to  town, 

An'  come  back  'thout  no  fish  a-tall, 

An'  Jim  an'  Jo  they  run  an'  bawl 

An'  tell  their  ma  their  pa  hain't  fetch* 

No  fish, — she  scold  again  an'  ketch 

Her  old  broom  up  an'  biff  him,  too. — 

An'  he  ist  cry,  an'  say,  "Boo-hoo! 

I  told  you  what  I'd  do  some  day !" 

An'  he  ist  turned  an'  runned  away 

To  where's  the  grea'-big  river  there, 

An'  ist  splunged  in  an'  swum  to  where 

The  mountain's  at,  'way  th'  other  side, 

An'  cliimbed  up  there.    An'  Miz  Bear  cried — • 

An'  little  Jo  an'  little  Jim — 

Ist  like  their  ma — bofe  cried  fer  him! — 

But  he  clumbed  on,  clean  out  o'  sight, 

He  wuz  so  mad  ! — An'  served  'em  right ! 

Nen — when  the  Bear  got  'way  on  top 

The  mountain,  he  heerd  somepin'  flop 

Its  wings — an*  somepin'  else  he  heerd 

A-rattfin'-like. — An'  he  wuz  sheered, 

An'  looked  'way  up,  an' — Mercy  sake! 

It  wuz  a'  Eagul  an'  a  SNAKE  ! 

An'-sir !  the  Snake,  he  bite  an*  kill* 

The  Eagul,  an'  they  bofe  fall  till 


454 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

They  strike  the  grgmdzK-k'-spang- 

Wite  where  the  Bear  wuz  standin'  at ! 

An'  when  here  come  the  Snake  at  him, 

The  Bear  he  think  o'  little  Jim 

An'  Jo,  he  did— an'  their  ma,  too,— 

All  safe  at  home ;  an'  he  ist  flew__ 

Back  down  the  mojmiain — an'  could  hear 

The  old  Snake  rattlin',  sharp  an'  clear, 

Wite  clos't  behind !— An'  Bear  he's  so 

All  tired  out,  by  time,  you  know, 

He  git  down  to  the  river^  there, 

He  know'  he  can't  swim  back  to  where 

His  folks  is  at.    But  ist  wite  nen 

He  see  a  boat  an'  six  big  men 

'At's  been  a-shootin'  ducks :  An'  so 

He  skeered  them  out  the  fx>at,  you  know, 

An'  ist  jumped  in — an'  Sna&The  tried 

To  jump  in,  too,  but  failed  outside 

Where  all  the  water  wuz ;  an'  so 

The  Bear  grabs  one  the  things  you  row 

The  boat  wiv  an'  ist  whacks  the  head 

Of  the  old  Snake  an'  kills  him  dead  !— 

An'  when  he's  killed  him  dead,  w'y,  nen 

The  old  Snake's  drownded  dead  again! 

Nen  Bear  set  in  the  boat  an'  bowed 

His  back  an'  rowed — an'  rowed — an'  rowed — 

Till  he's  safe  home — so  tired  he  can't 

Do  nothin'  but  lay  there  an'  pant 

An'  tell  his  childern,  "Bresh  my  coat !" 

An'  tell  his  wife,  "Go  chain  my  boat!" 

An'  they're  so  glad  he's  back,  they  say 

"They  knowed  he's  comin'  thataway 


-455 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

To  ist  su'prise  the  dear  ones  there !" 
An'  Jim  an'To  they  dried  his  hair 
An'  pulled  the  burrs  out ;  anv  their  ma 
She  ist  set  there  an'  helt  his  paw 
Till  he  wuz  sound  asleep,  an'  nen 
She  tell'  him  she  won't  scold  again — 

Never — never — never — 

Ferever  an'  f erever ! 


Old  Man  Whiskery-Whee-Kum- 


OLD  Man  Whiskery-  Whee-Kum-Wheeze 
Lives  'way  up  in  the  leaves  o'  trees. 
An*  wunst  I  slipped  up-stairs  to  play 
In  Aunty's  room,  while  she  'uz  away; 
An'  I  clumbed  up  in  her  cushion-chair 
An'  ist  peeked  out  o*  the  winder  there  ; 
An'  there  I  saw  —  wite  out  in  the  trees  — 
Old  Man  Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze  ! 

An'  Old  Man  Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze 
Would  bow  an'  bow,  with  the  leaves  in  the  breeze, 
An'  waggle  his  whiskers  an'  raggledy  hair, 
An'  bow  to  me  in  the  winder  there  ! 
An'  I'd  peek  out,  an'  he'd  peek  in 
An*  waggle  his  whiskers  an'  bow  ag'in, 
Ist  like  the  leaves  'u'd  wave  in  the  breeze  — 
Old  Man  Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze  ! 

456 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


An'  Old  Man  Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze, 
Seem-like,  says  to  me :  "See  my  bees 
A-bringin'  my  dinner  ?     An'  see  my  cup 
O'  locus'-blossoms  they've  plum  filled  up?" 
An'  "Um-yum,  honey!"  wuz  last  he  said, 
An'  waggled  his  whiskers  an'  bowed  his  head ; 
An'  I  yells,  "Gimme  some,  won't  you,  please, 
Old  Man  Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze  ?" 


24 1         Littlc-Girl-Tu<o~Littlc-Girls 

I'M  twins,  I  guess,  'cause  my  Ma  say 
I'm  two  little  girls.    An'  one  o'  me 
Is  Good  little  girl ;  an'  th'  other  'n'  she 
Is  Bad  little  girl  as  she  can  be! 

An'  Ma  say  so,  'most  ever'  day. 

:.  'nn  ,?3  i 

An'  she's  the  funniest  Ma !     'Cause  when 
My  Doll  won't  mind,  an'  I  ist  cry, 
W'y,  nen  my  Ma  she  sob  an'  sigh, 
An'  say,  "Dear  Good  little  girl,  good-by  !- 

Bad  little  girl's  corned  here  again !" 

Last  time  'at  Ma  act'  thataway, 
I  cried  all  to  myse'f  a  while 
Out  on  the  steps,  an'  nen  I  smile. 
An'  git  my  Doll  all  fix'  in  style, 

An'  go  in  where  Ma's  at,  an'  say: 

457 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

"Morning  to  you,  Mommy  dear! 
Where's  that  Bad  little  girl  wuz  here? 
Bad  little  girl's  goned  clean  away, 
An'  Good  little  girl's  corned  back  to  stay.' 


245          A  Gustatory  Achievement 


E^ST  Thanksgivin'-dinner  we 
Et  at  Granny's  house,  an'  she 
Had  —  ist  like  she  alluz  does  — 
Most  an'  best  pies  ever  wuz. 

Canned  blackburry-pie.  an'  goosc- 
Burry,  squshin'-full  o'  juice; 
An*  ro^rburry  —  yes,  an'  plum  — 
Yes,  an'  churry-pie  —  um-yum! 

Peach  an'  punkin,  too,  you  bet. 
Lawzy  !  I  kin  taste  'em  yet  ! 
Yes,  an'  custard-pie,  an'  mince! 

An'  —  I  —  ain't  —  et  —  no  —  pie  —  since  ! 


246  A  Parent  Reprimanded 

SOMETIMES  I  think  'at  Parunts  does 
Things  ist  about  as  bad  as  us  — 
Wite  'fore  our  vurry  eyes,  at  that  ! 
Per  one  time  Pa  he  scold'  my  Ma 
'Cause  he  can't  find  his  hat; 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An*  she  ist  cried,  she  did !    An'  I 
Says,  "Ef  you  scold  my  Ma 

Ever  again  an'  make  her  cry, 
W'y,  you  shan't  be  my  Pa !" 

An*  nen  he  laugh'  an'  find  his  hat 

Ist  wite  where  Ma  she  said  it's  at! 


247  "Company  Manners'' 

WHEN  Bess  gave  her  dollies  a  Tea,  said  she, 
"It's  unpolite,  when  they's  Company, 
To  say  you've  drinked  two  cups,  you  see, — 
But  say  you've  drinked  a  couple  of  tea." 


in'  e.'bno  o/ii  829 J') 
459 


THE  BOYS  OF  THE  OLD 
GLEE  CLUB 


248      The  Boys  of  the  Old  Glee  Club 


Y 


rOU-FOLKS  rickollect,  I  know— 
'Tain't  so  very  long  ago — 
Th'  Old  Glee  Club — was  got  up  here 
'Bout  first  term  Grant  tuk  the  Cheer 
Per  President  four  year — and  then 
Riz — and  tuk  the  thing  again ! 
Politics  was  runnin'  high, 
And  the  Soldiers  mighty  nigh 
Swep'  the  Country — 'bout  on  par 
With  their  ricord  through  the  War. 
Glee  Club,  mainly,  Soldiers,  too — 
Most  the  Boys  had  wore  the  blue, — 
So  their  singin'  had  the  swing — 
Kind  o'  sort  o'  Shiloh-ring, 
Don't  you  know,  'at  kind  o'  got 
Clean  inside  a  man  and  shot 
Telegrams  o'  joy  dee-vine 
Up  and  down  his  mortal  spine ! 
They  was  jest  boys  then,  all  young— 
And  'bout  lively  as  they  sung ! 
Now  they  hain't  young  any  more — 
('Less  the  ones  'at's  gore  before 
460 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

'S  got  their  youth  back,  glad  and  free 

'N'  keerless  as  they  used  to  be !) 

Burgess  Brown's  old  friends  all  'low 

He  is  'most  as  lively  now, 

And  as  full  o'  music,  too, 

As  when  Old  Glee  Club  was  :  iew ! 

And  John  Blake,  you  mind,  ;at  had 

The  near-sightedness  so  bad, 

When  he  sung  by  note,  the  rest 

Read  'em  f  er  him,  er  he  guessed 

How  they  run — and  sung  'em,  too, 

Clair  and  sweet  as  honey-dew ! 

Harry  Adams's  here — and  he's 

Jollyin'  ever'  man  he  sees 

'At  complains  o'  gittin*  gray 

Er  a-agein'  anyway. 

Harry  he  jest  thrives  on  fun — • 

"Troubles  ?"  he  says, — "Nary  one ! — 

Got  gran'-children  I  can  play 

And  keep  young  with,  night  and  day !" 

Then  there's  Ozzy  Weaver — he's 

Kickin',  lively  as  you  please, — 

'N'  Dearie  Mary. — Called  'em  then 

"The  Cherubs."    Sung  "We  are  two  Men 

O'  th'  Olden  Time."    Well !  their  duets 

Was  jest  sweet  as  violets  ! 

And  Dan  Ransdell — he's  still  here — 

Not  jest  in  the  town,  but  near 

Enough,  you  bet,  to  allus  come 

Prompt'  on  time  to  vote  at  home! 

Dan  he's  be'n  in  Washington 

461 


THE  HOOSIER   BOOK 

Sence  he  went  with  Harrison.     .     .     . 

And  John  Slauson — (Boys  called  John 

"Sloppy  Weather.") — he  went  on 

Once  to  Washington ;  and  Dan 

Intertained  him: — Ever'  man, 

From  the  President,  to  all 

Other  big-guns  Dan  could  haul 

In  posish  'ud  have  to  shake 

Hands  with  John  fer  old  times'  sake. 

And  to  hear  John,  when  he  got 

Home  again,  w'y,  you'd  'a'  caught 

His  own  sperit  and  dry  fun 

And  mis-c/nVz^-y-ousness  'at  run 

Through  his  talk  of  all  he  see : — 

"Ruther  pokey  there,  fer  me" 

John  says, — "though,  of  course,  I  met 

Mostly  jest  the  Cabinet 

Members ;  and  the  President 

He'd  drop  round  :  and  then  we  went 

Incogg  fer  a  quiet  walk — 

Er  sometimes  jest  set  and  talk 

'Bout  old  times  back  here — and  how 

All  vow-boys  was  doin'  now, 

And  Old  Glee  Club  songs ;  and  then 

He'd  say,  'f  he  could,  once  again, 

Jest  hear  us — 'once  more'  says  he, — 

'I'd  shed  Washington,  D.  C, 

And  jest  fall  in  ranks  with  you 

And  march  home,  a-singin',  too  !'  " 

And  Bob  Geiger — Now  lives  down 

At  Atlanty, — but  this  town 

462 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

'S  got  Bob's  heart — a  permanent 

And  time-honored  resident. 

Then  there's  Mahlon  Butler— still 

Lookin'  like  he  allus  will! 

"How  you  f eelin'  ?"  s'l,  last  time 

I  see  Mahlon :    'N'  he  says,  "I'm 

F  eelin'?"  says,  "so  peert  and  gay 

'F  I's  hitched  up  I'd  run  away!" 

He  says,  "Course  I'm  bald  a  bit, 

But  not  'nough  to  brag  on  it 

Like  Dave  Wallace  does,"  he  says, 

"With  his  two  shamef  acetedness  !" 

(Dave  jest  laughs  and  lifts  his  "dice" 

At  the  joke,  and  blushes — twice.) 

And  Ed.  Thompson,  he's  gone  on — 

They's  a  whole  quartette  'at's  gone — 

Yes,  a  whole  quartette,  and  more, 

Has  crossed  on  the  Other  Shore.     .     .     . 

Sabold  and  Doc  Wood'ard's  gone — 

'N'  Ward;  and — last, — Will  Tarkington.- 

Ward  'at  made  an  Irish  bull 

Actchully  jest  beautiful! — 

"  'Big-nose  Ben,'  "  says  Ward,  "I  s'pose, 

Makes  an  eyesore  of  his  nose!" 

And  Will  Tarkington — Ef  he 

Ever  had  an  inemy, 

The  Good  Bein's  plans  has  be'n 

Tampered  with  ! — because  all  men, 

Women  and  childern — ever'  one — 

Loved  to  love  Will  Tarkington  ! 

The  last  time  I  heerd  'em  all 

Was  at  Tomilsonian  Hall, 

463 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

As  I  rickollect — and  know, — 
Must  be'n  fifteen  year'  ago! — 
Big  Mass  Meetin' — thousands  here.     .     . 
Old  Dick  Thompson  in  the  Cheer 
On  the  stage — and  three  er  four 
Other  "Silver-Tongues"  er  more !     .     .     . 
Mind  Ben  Harrison? — Clean,  rich, 
Ringin'  voice — "  'bout  concert-pitch," 
Tarkington  he  called  it,  and 
Said  its  music  'clipsed  the  band 
And  Glee  Club  both  rolled  in  one ! — 
('Course  you  all  knowed  Harrison!) 
Yes,  and  Old  Flag,  streamin'  clean 
From  the  high  arch  'bove  the  scene 
And  each  side  the  Speaker's  stand. — 
And  a  Brass,  and  Sheepskin  Band, 
('Twixt  the  speeches  'at  was  made) 
'At  cut  loose  and  banged  and  played — 
S'pose,  to  have  the  noise  all  through 
So's  the  crowd  could  listen  to 
Some  real  music ! — Then  Th'  Old  Glee 
Club  marched  out  to  victory ! — 
And  sich  singin' ! — Boys  was  jest 
At  their  very  level-best !     .    .    . 
My!  to  hear  'em! — From  old  "Red- 
White-and-Blue,"  to  "Uncle  Ned"  !— 
From  "The  Sword  of  Bunker  Hill," 
To  "Billy  Magee-Magaw"  !— And— still 
The  more  they  sung,  the  more,  you  know, 
The  crowd  jest  -wouldn't  let  'em  go '!— 
Till  they  reached  the  final  notch 
O'  glory  with  old  "Larboard  Watch" ! 

464 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Well !  that  song's  a  song  my  soul 
Jest  swings  off  in,  past  control ! — 
Allus  did  and  allus  will 
Lift  me  clair  of  earthly  ill 
And  interrogance  and  doubt 
O'  what  the  good  Lord's  workin'  out 
Anyway  er  anyhow!'*  ;^fi?q4  oj 
Shet  my  eyes  and  hear  it  now! — 
Till,  at  night,  that  ship  and  sea 
And  wet  waves  jest  wallers  me 
Into  that  same  sad  yet  glad 
Certainty  the  Sailor  had 
When  waked  to  his  watch  and  ward 
By  th'  lone  whisper  of  the  Lord — 
Heerd  high  'bove  the  hoarsest  roar 
O'  any  storm  on  sea  er  shore ! 

Time's  be'n  clockin'  on,  you  know  ! 

Sabold,  who  was  first  to  go, 

Died  back  East,  in  ninety-three, 

At  his  old  home,  Albany : 

Ward  was  next  to  leave  us — Died 

New  York.     .     .     .     How  we  laughed  and 

cried 

Both  together  at  them  two 
Friends  and  comards  tried  and  true ! — 
Ner  they  wasn't,  when  they  died, 
Parted  long — 'most  side-by-side 
They  went  singin',  you  might  say, 
Till  their  voices  died  away 
Kind  o'  into  a  duet 
O'  silence  they're  rehearsin'  yet. 

465 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Old  Glee  Club's  be'n  meetin'  less 
And  less  frequenter,  I  guess, 
Sence  so  many's  had  to  go — 
And  the  rest  all  miss  'em  so ! 
Still  they's  calls  they'  got  to  make, 
Fer  old  reputation's  sake, 
So  to  speak ;  but,  'course,  they  all 
Can't  jest  answer  ever'  call — 
'Ceptin'  Christmas-times,  er  when 
Charity  calls  on  'em  then ; 
And — not  chargln'  anything — 
W'y,  the  Boys's  jest  got  to  sing!     . 
Campaign  work,  and  jubilees 
To  wake  up  the  primaries ; 
Loyal  Legions — G.  A.  R.'s — 
Big  Reunions — Stripes-and-Stars 
Fer  Schoolhouses  ever'where — 
And  Church-doin's,  here  and  there — 
And  Me-morial  Meetin's,  when 
Our  War-Gov'ner  lives  again ! 
Yes,  and  Decoration  Days — 
Martial  music — prayers  and  praise 
Fer  the  Boys  'at  marched  away 
So's  we'd  have  a  place  to  stay !     .     . 
Little  childern,  'mongst  the  flowers, 
Learnin'  'bout  this  Land  of  Ours, 
And  the  price  these  Soldiers  paid, 
Gethered  in  their  last  parade.     .     .     . 
O  that  sweetest,  saddest  sound! — 
"Tenting  on  the  old  Campground.' 
The  Old  Glee  Club— singin'  so 
Quaverin'-like  and  soft  and  low, 

466 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Ever'  listener  in  the  crowd 

Sings  in  whispers — but,  out  'loud, 

Sings  as  ef  he  didn't  keer — 

Not  fer  no  thin'  I     .     .     .     Ketch  me  here 

Whilse  I'm  honest,  and  I'll  say 

God's  way  is  the  only  way!     .    •]/-. 

So  I'  allus  felt,  i  jing! 

Ever'  time  the  Boys  'ud  sing 

'Bout  "A  Thousand  Years,  my  Own 

Columbia !" — er  "The  Joys  we've  Known" 

"Hear  dem  Bells"— er  "Hi-lo,  Hail  !"— 

I  have  felt  God  must  prevail — 

Jest  like  ever'  boy  'at's  gone 

Of  'em  all,  whilse  he  was  on 

Deck  here  with  us,  seemed  to  be 

Livin',  laughin'  proof,  to  me, 

Of  Eternal  Life — No  more 

Will  than  them  all,  gone  before !     .     .     , 

Can't  I — many-a-time — jest  see 

Them  all,  like  they  used  to  be ! — 

Tarkington,  fer  instance,  clean 

Outside  o'  the  man  you  seen, 

Singin' — till  not  only  you 

Heerd  his  voice  but  felt  it,  too, 

In  back  of  the  bench  you  set 

In — And  'most  can  feel  it  yet ! 

Yes,  and  Will's  the  last  o'  five 

Now  that's  dead — yet  still  alive, 

True  as  Holy  Writ's  own  word 

Has  be'n  spoke  and  man  has  heerd ! 

Them  was  left  when  W7ill  went  on 

Has  met  once  sence  he  was  gone — 

467 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Met  jest  once — but  not  to  sing 

Ner  to  practise  anything.— 

Facts  is,  they  jest  didn't  know 

Why  they  was  a-meetin'  so  ; — 

But  John  Brush  he  had  it  done 

And  invited  ever'  one 

Of  'em  he  could  find,  to  call 

At  his  office,  "Music  Hall," 

Four  o'clock — one  Saturd'y 

Afternoon. — And  this  was  three 

Er  four  weeks,  mind,  sence  the  day 

We  had  laid  poor  Will  away. 

Mahlon  Butler  he  come  past 

My  shop,  and  I  dropped  my  last 

And  went  with  him,  wonder'n',  too, 

What  new  joke  Brush  had  in  view  ;— 

But,  when  all  got  there,  and  one- 

By-one  was  give'  a  seat,  and  none 

O'  Brush's  twinkles  seemed  in  sight, 

'N'  he  looked  bis  all  right,  all  right, — 

We  saw — when  he'd  locked  the  door — 

What  some  of  us,  years  before, 

Had  seen,  and  long  sence  fergot — 

(Seen  but  not  heerd,  like  as  not.)  — 

How  Brush,  once  when  Admiral  Brown 

'S  back  here  in  his  old  home-town 

And  flags  ever'wheres — and  Old 

Glee  Club  tellin'  George  to  "Hold 

The  Fort !"  and  "We"  would  "make  'em  flee 

By  land  and  sea,"  et  cetery, — 

How  Brush  had  got  the  Boys  to  sing  • 

A  song  in  that-there  very  thing 

468 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Was  on  the  table  there  to-day — 

Some  kind  o'  'phone,  you  know. — But  say! 

When  John  touched  it  off,  and  we 

Heerd  it  singin' — No-sir-ee  ! — 

Not  the  machine  a-singin' — No, — 

Th'  Old  Glee  Club  o'  long  ago !     .     .    . 

There  was  Sab  old's  voice  again — 

'N'  Ward's; — and,  sweet  as  summer-rain, 

With  glad  boy-laugh ture's  trills  and  runs, 

Ed.  Thompson's  voice  and  Tarkington's!    . 

And  ah,  to  hear  them,  through  the  storm 

Of  joy  that  swayed  each  listener's  form — 

Seeming  to  call,  with  hail  and  cheer, 

From  Heaven's  high  seas  down  to  us  here  :- 

"But  who  can  speak  the  joy  he  feels 
While  o'er  the  foam  his  vessel  reels, 
And  his  tired  eyelids  slumbering  fall, 
He  rouses  at  the  welcome  call 
Of  'Larboard  Watch,  Ahoy!'" 

SipteH^iljfifw       And  O 
To  hear  them — same  as  long  ago — 
The  listeners  whispered,  still  as  death, 
With  trembling  lips  and  broken  breath, 
As  with  one  voice — and  eyes  all  wet, — 
"Goo! — God! — Thank  God,  they're  singing 
yet!" 


469 


A  DEFECTIVE  SANTA  CLAUS 

249  A  Defective  Santa  Clans 

Little  Boy!    Halloo!— halloo! 
Can't  you  hear  me  calling  you? — 
Little  Boy  that  used  to  be, 
Come  in  here  and  play  with  me. 

A~_XUS  when  our  Pa  he's  away 
Nen  Uncle  Sidney  comes  to  stay 
At  our  house  here — so  Ma  an'  me 
An'  Etty  an'  Lee-Bob  won't  be 
Afeard  ef  anything  at  night 
Might  happen — like  Ma  says  it  might 
(Ef  Trip  wuz  big,  I  bet  you  he 
'Uz  best  watch-dog  you  ever  see!) 
An'  so  last  winter — ist  before 
It's  go'  be  Chris'mus-Day, — w'y,  shore 
Enough,  Pa  had  to  haf  to  go 
To  'tend  a  lawsuit — "An'  the  snow 
Ist  right  f  er  Santy  Claus !"  Pa  said, 
As  he  dumb  in  old  Ayersuz  sled, 
An*  say  he's  sorry  he  can't  be 
With  us  that  night—"  'Cause,"  he-says-ee, 
"Old  Santy  might  be  comin'  here— 
This  very  night  of  all  the  year 
F  got  to  be  away ! — so  all 
You  kids  must  tell  him — ef  he  call — 
470 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

He's  mighty  welcome,  an'  yer  Pa 
He  left  his  love  with  you  an'  Ma 
An'  Uncle  Sid !"    An'  clucked,  an'  leant 
Back,  laughin' — an'  away  they  went ! 
An'  Uncle  wave'  his  hands  an'  yells 
"Yer  old  horse  ort  to  have  on  bells !" 
But  Pa  yell  back  an'  laugh  an'  say 
"I  'spect  when  Santy  come  this  way 
It's  time  enough  f  er  sleighbells  nen !" 
An'  holler  back  "Good-by !"  again, 
An'  reach  out  with  the  driver's  whip 
An'  cut  behind  an'  drive  back  Trip. 

An'  so  all  day  it  snowed  an'  snowed ! 
An'  Lee-Bob  he  ist  watched  the  road, 
In  his  high-chair ;  an'  Etty  she 
'Ud  play  with  Uncie  Sid  an'  me — 
Like  she  wuz  he'ppin'  fetch  in  wood 
An'  keepin'  old  fire  goin'  good, 
Where  Ma  she  wuz  a-cookin'  there 
In  kitchen,  too,  an'  ever'where ! 
An*  Uncle  say,  "  'At's  ist  the  way 
Yer  Ma's  b'en  workin',  night  an'  day, 
Sence  she  hain't  big  as  Etty  is 
Er  Lee-Bob  in  that  chair  o'  his !" 
Nen  Ma  she'd  laugh  't  what  Uncle  said, 
An'  smack  an'  smoove  his  old  bald  head 
An'  say  "Clear  out  the  way  till  I 
Can  keep  that  pot  from  b'ilin'  dry!" 
Nen  Uncle,  when  she's  gone  back  to 
The  kitchen,  says,  "We  ust  to  do 


471 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Some  cookin'  in  the  ashes. — Say, 
S'posin'  we  try  some,  thataway !" 
An'  nen  he  send  us  to  tell  Ma 
Send  two  big  'taters  in  he  saw 
Pa's  b'en  keepin'  'cause  they  got 
The  premium  at  the  Fair  !    An'  what 
You  think?— He  rake  a  grea'-big  hole 
In  the  hot  ashes,  an'  he  roll 
Them  old  big  'taters  in  the  place 
An'  rake  the  coals  back — an'  his  face 
1st  swettin'  so's  he  purt'  nigh  swear 
'Cause  it's  so  hot !    An'  when  they're  there 
'Bout  time  'at  we  fergit  'em,  he 
1st  rake  'em  out  again — an'  gee! — 
He  bu'st  'em  with  his  fist  wite  on 
A'  old  stove-led,  while  Etty's  gone 
To  git  the  salt;  an'  butter,  too — 
1st  like  he  said  she  haf  to  do, 
No  matter  what  Ma  say !    An'  so 
He  salt  an'  butter  'em,  an'  blow 
'Em  cool  enough  f  er  us  to  eat — 
An'  mc-o-my!  they're  hard  to  beat! 
An'  Trip  'ud  ist  lay  there  an'  pant 
Like  he'd  laugh  out  loud,  but  he  can't 
Nen  Uncle  fill  his  pipe — an*  we 
'Ud  he'p  him  light  it— Sis  an'  me,— 
But  mostly  little  Lee-Bob,  'cause 
"He's  the  best  Lighter  ever  wuz !" 
Like  Uncle  telled  him  wunst  when  Lee- 
Bob  cried  an'  jerked  the  light  from  me, 
He  wuz  so  mad !    So  Uncle  pat 
An'  pet  him  (Lee-Bob's  ust  to  that— 

472 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

'Cause  he's  the  little-est,  you  know, 

An'  allus  has  b'en  humored  so!) 

Nen  Uncle  gits  the  flat-arn  out, 

An',  while  he's  tellin*  us  all  'bout 

Old  Chris'mus-times  when  he's  a  kid, 

He  ist  cracked  hickernuts,  he  did, 

Till  they's  a  crockful,  mighty  nigh  ! 

An'  when  they're  all  done  by  an'  by, 

He  raked  the  red  coals  out  again 

An'  telled  me,  "Fetch  that  popcorn  in, 

An'  old  three-leggud  skillut — an' 

The  led  an'  all  now,  little  man, — 

An'  yer  old  Uncle  here  'ull  show 

You  how  corn's  popped,  long  years  ago 

When  me  an'  Santy  Glaus  wuz  boys 

On  Pap's  old  place  in  Illinoise ! — 

An'  your  Pa,  too,  wuz  chums,  all  through,. 

With  Santy !— Wisht  Pa'd  be  here,  too  !" 

Nen  Uncle  sigh  at  Ma,  an'  she 

Pat  him  again,  an'  say  to  me 

An'  Etty, — "You  take  warning  fair  ! — 

Don't  talk  too  much,  like  Uncle  there, 

Ner  don't  fergit,  like  him,  my  dears, 

That  'little  pitchers  has  big  ears!'" 

But  Uncle  say  to  her,  "Clear  out ! — 

Yer  brother  knows  what  he's  about. — 

You  git  your  Chris'mus-cookin'  done 

Er  these  pore  childern  won't  have  none !" 

Nen  Trip  wake'  up  an'  raise',  an'  nen 

Turn  roun'  an'  nen  lay  down  again. 

An'  one  time  Uncle  Sidney  say, — 

"When  dogs  is  sleepin'  thataway, 

473 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Like  Trip,  an'  whimpers,  it's  a  sign 

He'll  ketch  eight  rabbits— mayby  nine— 

Afore  his  fleas'll  wake  him— nen 

He'll  bite  hisse'f  to  sleep  again 

An'  try  to  dream  he's  go'  ketch  ten." 

An'  when  Ma's  gone  again  back  in 

The  kitchen,  Uncle  scratch  his  chin 

An'  say,  "When  Santy  Clans  an'  Pa 

An'  me  wuz  little  boys — an'  Ma, 

When  she's  'bout  big  as  Etty  there  ;— 

W'y, — 'When  we're  growed — no  matter  where, 

Santy  he  cross'  his  heart  an'  say — 

Til  come  to  see  you,  all,  some  day 

When  you'  got  childerns — all  but  me 

An'  pore  old  Sid  !'  "    Nen  Uncle  he 

1st  kind  o'  shade  his  eyes  an'  pour' 

'Bout  forty-'leven  bushels  more 

O'  popcorn  out  the  skillut  there 

In  Ma's  new  basket  on  the  chair. 

An'  nen  he  telled  us— an'  talk  low, 

"So  Ma  can't  hear,"  he  say :— "You  know 

Yer  Pa  know',  when  he  drived  away, 

To-morry's  go'  be  Chris'mus-Day;— 

Well,  nen  to-night,"  he  whisper,  "see?— 

It's  go'  be  Chris'mus-£z^/'  says-ee, 

"An',  like  yer  Pa  hint,  when  he  went, 

Old  Santy  Claus  (now  hush!)  he's  sent 

Yer  Pa  a  postul-card,  an'  write 

He's  shorely  go'  be  here  to-night.     .     . 

That's  why  yer  Pa's  so  bored  to  be 

Away  to-night,  when  Santy  he 


474 


in 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Is  go'  be  here,  sleighbells  an*  all, 

To  make  you  kids  a  Chris'mus-call !" 

An'  we're  so  glad  to  know  fer  shore 

He's  comin',  I  roll  on  the  floor — 

An'  here  come  Trip  a-waller'n'  roun' 

An'  purt'  nigh  knock  the  clo'es-horse  down ! — 

An*  Etty  grab  Lee-Bob  an'  prance 

All  roun'  the  room  like  it's  a  dance — 

Till  Ma  she  come  an'  march  us  nen 

To  dinner,  where  we're  still  again, 

But  tickled  so  we  ist  can't  eat 

But  pie,  an'  ist  the  hot  mincemeat 

With  raisins  in. — But  Uncle  et, 

An'  Ma.    An'  there  they  set  an'  set 

Till  purt'  nigh  supper-time ;  nen  we 

Tell  him  he's  got  to  fix  the  Tree 

'Fore  Santy  gits  here,  like  he  said. 

We  go  nen  to  the  old  woodshed — 

All  bundled  up,  through  the  deep  snow — 

"An'  snowin'  yet,  jee-rooshy-O!" 

Uncle  he  said,  an'  he'p  us  wade 

Back  where's  the  Chris'mus-Tree  he's  made 

Out  of  a  little  jackoak-top 

He  git  down  at  the  sawmill-shop — 

An'  Trip  'ud  run  ahead,  you  know, 

An*  'tend-like  he  'uz  eatin'  snow — 

When  we  all  waddle  back  with  it; 

An'  Uncle  set  it  up — an'  git 

It  wite  in  front  the  fireplace — 'cause 

He  says  "  Tain't  so  'at  Santy  Claus 

Comes  down  all  chimblies, — least,  to-night 

He's  comin'  in  this  house  all  right — 


475 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

By  the  front-door,  as  ort  to  be!— 
We'll  all  be  hid  where  we  can  see!" 
Nen  he  look  up,  an*  he  see  Ma 
An*  say,  "It's  ist  too  bad  their  Pa 
Can't  be  here,  so's  to  see  the  fun 
The  childern  will  have,  ever'  one  !" 

Well,  we!  —  We  hardly  couldn't  wait 

Till  it  wuz  dusk,  an'  dark  an'  late 

Enough  to  light  the  lamp  !  —  An'  Lee- 

Bob  light  a  candle  on  the  Tree  — 

"1st  one—  'cause  I'm  The  Lighter'  !"—  Nen 

He  dumb  on  Uncle's  knee  again 

An'  hug  us  bofe;  —  an'  Etty  git 

Her  little  chist  an'  set  on  it 

Wite  clos't,  while  Uncle  telled  some  more 

'Bout  Santy  Claus,  an'  clo'es  he  wore 

"All  maked  o'  furs,  an'  trimmed  as  white 

As  cotton  is,  er  snow  at  night!" 

An'  nen,  all  sudden-like,  he  say,  — 

"Hush!    Listen  there!    Hain't  that  a  sleigh 

An'  sleighbells  jinglin'f"    Trip  go  "whooh!" 

Like  he  hear  bells  and  smell  'em,  too. 

Nen  we  all  listen.     .    .     .    An'-sir,  shore 

Enough,  we  hear  bells  —  more  an'  more 

A-jinglin'  clos'ter  —  clos'ter  still 

Down  the  old  crook-road  roun'  the  hill. 

An'  Uncle  he  jumps  up,  an'  all 

The  chairs  he  jerks  back  by  the  wall 

An'  th'ows  a'  overcoat  an'  pair 

O'  winder-curtains  over  there 


476 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  says,  "Hide  quick,  er  you're  too  late! — 
Them  bells  is  stoppin'  at  the  gate! — 
Git  back  o'  them-air  chairs  an'  hide, 
'Cause  I  hear  Santy's  voice  outside!" 
An'  Bang!  bang!  bang!  we  heerd  the  door — 
Nen  it  flewed  open,  an'  the  floor 
Blowed  full  o'  snow — that's  first  we  saw, 
Till  little  Lee-Bob  shriek'  at  Ma 
"There's  Santy  Claus! — /  know  him  by 
His  big  white  mufftash!" — an'  ist  cry 
An'  laugh  an'  squeal  an'  dance  an'  yell — 
Till,  when  he  quiet  down  a  spell, 
Old  Santy  bow  an*  th'ow  a  kiss 
To  him — an*  one  to  me  an'  Sis — 
An'  nen  go  clos't  to  Ma  an'  stoop 
An'  kiss  her — An'  nen  give  a  whoop 
That  fainted  her  ! — 'Cause  when  he  bent 
An'  kiss  her,  he  ist  backed  an'  went 
Wite  'g'inst  the  Chris'mus-Tree  ist  where 
The  candle's  at  Lee-Bob  lit  there  !— 
An'  set  his  white-fur  belt  afire — 
An'  blaze  streaked  roun'  his  waist  an'  higher 
Wite  up  his  old  white  beard  an'  th'oat  !— 
Nen  Uncle  grabs  th'  old  overcoat 
An'  flops  it  over  Santy's  head, 
An'  swing  the  door  wide  back  an'  said, 
"Come  out,  old  man ! — an'  quick  about 
It! — I've  ist  got  to  put  you  out!" 
An'  out  he  sprawled  him  in  the  snow — 
"Now  roll!"  he  szys—'Hi-roll-ce-O!"— 
An'  Santy,  sputter'n'  "Ouch!   Gee-whiz!" 
Ist  roll  an'  roll  f er  all  they  is ! 

477 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  Trip  he's  out  there,  too, — I  know, 
'Cause  I  could  hear  him  yappin'  so — 
An'  I  heerd  Santy,  wunst  er  twic't, 
Say,  as  he's  rollin',  "Drat  the  fice't!" 
Nen  Uncle  come  back  in,  an'  shake 
Ma  up,  an'  say,  "Per  mercy-sake!— 
He  hain't  hurt  none  !"    An'  nen  he  said, — 
"You  youngsters  h'ist  up-stairs  to  bed ! — 
Here !  kiss  yer  Ma  'Good  night,'  an'  me, — 
We'll  he'p  old  Santy  fix  the  Tree— 
An'  all  yer  whistles,  horns  an*  drums 
I'll  he'p  you  toot  when  morning  comes !" 


It's  a  long  while  'fore  we  go  to  sleep, — 

'Cause  down-stairs,  all-time  somepin'  keep 

A-kind  o'  scufflin'  roun'  the  floors — 

An'  openin'  doors,  an'  shettin'  doors — 

An'  could  hear  Trip  a-whinin',  too, 

Like  he  don't  know  ist  what  to  do — 

An'  tongs  a-clankin'  down  k' thump! — 

Nen  some  one  squonkin*  the  old  pump — 

An'  Wooh!  how  cold  it  soun'  out  there! — 

I  could  ist  see  the  pump-spout  where 

It's  got  ice  chin-whiskers  all  wet 

An'  drippy — An'  I  see  it  yet ! 

An'  nen,  seem-like,  I  hear  some  mens 

A-talkin'  out  there  by  the  fence, 

An'  one  says,  "Oh,  'bout  twelve  o'clock !" 

"Nen,"  'nother'n'  says,  "Here's  to  you,  Doc ! — 

God  bless  us  ever' one!"    An' nen 

I  heerd  the  old  pump  squonk  again. 

478 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  nen  I  say  my  prayer  all  through 

Like  Uncle  Sidney  learn'  me  to, — 

"O  Father  mine,  e'en  as  Thine  own, 

This  child  looks  up  to  Thee  alone : 

Asleep  or  waking,  give  him  still 

His  Elder  Brother's  wish  and  will." 

An'  that's  the  last  I  know    .     .     .    Till  Ma 

She's  callin'  us — an'  so  is  Pa,— 

He  holler  "Chris'mus-gif !"  an'  say, — 

"I'm  got  back  home  f  er  Chris'mus-Day ! — 

An'  Uncle  Sid's  here,  too — an'  he 

Is  nibblin'  'roun'  yer  Chris'mus-Tree !" 

Nen  Uncle  holler,  "I  suppose 

Yer  Pa's  so  proud  he's  froze  his  nose 

He  wants  to  turn  it  up  at  us, 

'Cause  Santy  kick'  up  such  a  fuss — 

Tetchin'  hisse'f  off  same  as  ef 

He  wuz  his  own  fireworks  hisse'f !" 

An'  when  we're  down-stairs, — shore  enough, 
Pa's  nose  is  froze,  an'  salve  an'  stuff 
All  on  it — an'  one  hand's  froze,  too, 
An'  got  a  old  yarn  red-and-blue 
Mitt  on  it — "An*  he's  froze  some  more 
Acrost  his  chist,  an'  kind  o'  sore 
All  roun'  his  rfy-fram,"  Uncle  say. — 
"But  Pa  he'd  ort  a-seen-  the  way 
Santy  bear  up  last  night  when  that- 
Air  fire  break  out,  an'  quicker'n  scat 
He's  all  a-blazin',  an'  them-'air 
Gun-cotton  whiskers  that  he  wear 


479 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

1st  flashin'! — till  I  burn  a  hole 

In  the  snow  with  him,  an'  he  roll 

The  front-yard  dry  as  Chris'mus  jokes 

Old  parents  plays  on  little  folks ! 

But,  long's  a  smell  o'  tow  er  wool, 

I  kep'  him  rollin'  beautiful! — 

Till  I  wuz  shore  I  shorely  see 

He's  squenched!   W'y,  hadn't  b'en  fer  me, 

That  old  man  might  a-burnt  clear  down 

Clean — plum' — level  with  the  groun' !" 

Nen  Ma  say,  "There,  Sid ;  that'll  do  !— 

Breakfast   is   ready — Chris'mus,  too. — 

Your  voice  'ud  soun'  best,  sayin'  Grace — 

Say  it."    An'  Uncle  bow'  his  face 

An'  say  so  long  a  Blessing  nen, 

Trip  bark'  two  times  'fore  it's  "A-men  I" 


'ris— li  rro  HA 

bio  r,  ;..^  'a  A 
"— 4i  no  j.nM 


480 


XOOH   y 


RUBAIYAT  OF  DOC  SIFERS 


brie  iffn  miH  -»fr- 


Ritbdiydt  of  Doc  Sifers 

IF  you  don't  know  Doc  SIFERS  I'll  jes'  argy,  here  and  now, 
You've  bin  a  mighty  little  while  about  here,  anyhow, 
'Cause  Doc  he's  rid  these  roads  and  woods  —  er  swum  'em, 

now  and  then  — 
And  practised  in  this  neighberhood  sence  hain't  no  tellin' 

when  ! 
"»  ,.v_  '.-Vy.-(-,\v  i'i\  boraoJ^-K  )ori  'o  iif 

In  radius  o'  fifteen  mil'd,  all  p'ints  o'  compass  round, 

No   man   er   woman,   chick   er   child,   er   team,   on   top   o' 

ground, 
But  knows  him  —  yes,  and  got  respects  and  likin'  fer  him, 

too, 
Fer  all  his  so-to-speak  dee-f  ects  o'  genius  showin'  through  ! 

Some  claims  he's  absent-minded;  some  has  said  they  wuz 

afeard 
To  take  his  powders  when  he  come  and  dosed  'em  out,  and 

'peared 
To  have  his  mind  on  somepin'  else  —  like  County  Ditch,  er 

some 
New  way  o'  tannin'  mussrat-pelts,  er  makin'  butler  come. 

He's  cur'ous  —  they  hain't  no  mistake  about  it  !  —  but  he's  got 
Enough  o'  extry  brains  to  make  a  fury  —  like  as  not. 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

They's  no  dcscribin'  Sifers, — fer,  when  all  is  said  and  done, 
He's  jes'  hisse'f  Doc  Sifers — ner  they  hain't  no  other  one! 

Doc's  allus  sociable,  polite,  and  'greeable,  you'll  find — 
Pervidin'  ef  you  strike  him  right  and  nothin'  on  his  mind, — 
Like  in  some  hurry,  when  they've  sent  fer  Sifers  quick,  you 

see, 
To  'tend  some  sawmill-accident,  er  picnic  jamboree; 

Er  when  the  lightin'  's  struck  some  harebrained  harvest- 
hand  ;  er  in 

Some  'tempt  o'  suicidin' — where  they'd  ort  to  try  ag'in  ! 

I've  knozved  Doc  haul  up  from  a  trot  and  talk  a'  hour  er 
two 

When  railly  he'd  a-ort  o'  not  a-stopped  fer  "Howdy-do!" 

And  then,   I've  met  him  'long  the  road,  a-lopin', — starin' 

straight 
Ahead, — and   yit   he   never   knowed   me    when    I    hollered 

"Yate, 
Old  Saddlebags!"  all  hearty-like,   er  "Who  you  goin'   to 

kill?" 
And  he'd  say  nothin' — only  hike  on  faster,  starin'  still ! 

I'd  bin  insulted,  many  a  time,  ef  I  jes'  wuzn't  shore 
Doc  didn't  mean  a  thing.    And  I'm  not  tetchy  any  more 
Sence  that-air  day,  ef  he'd  a-jes'  a-stopped  to  jaw  with  me, 
They'd  bin  a  little  dorter  less  in  my  own  f ambily ! 

Times  now,  at  home,  when  Sifers'  name  comes  up,  I  jes' 

let  on, 
You  know,  'at  7  think  Doc's  to  blame,  the  way  he's  bin  and 

gone 

482 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  disappointed  folks — 'L\-jce-mun-nee!  you'd  ort  to  then 
Jes'  hear  my  wife  light  into  me — "ongratefulest  o'  men!" 

'Mongst  all  the  women — mild  er  rough,   splendiferous  er 

plain, 
Er  them  with  sense,   er  not  enough  to   come  in  out  the 

rain, — 

Jes'  ever'  shape  and  build  and  style  o'  women,  fat  er  slim — 
They  all  like  Doc,  and  got  a  smile  and  pleasant  word  fer 

him! 

Ner  hain't  no  horse  I've  ever  saw  but  what'll  neigh  and  try 
To  sidle  up  to  him,  and  paw,  and  sense  him,  ear-and-eye : 
Then  jes'  a  tetch  o'  Doc's  old  pa'm,  to  pat  'em,  er  to  shove 
Along  their  nose — and  they're  as  ca'm  as  any  cooin'  dove ! 

And  same  with  dogs, — take  any  breed,  er  strain,  er  pedi 
gree, 

Er  racial  caste  'at  can't  concede  no  use  fer  you'er  me, — 
They'll  putt  all  predju-dice  aside  in  Doc's  case  and  go  in 
Kahoots  with  him,  as  satisfied  as  he  wuz  kith-and-kin ! 

And  Doc's  a  wonder,  trainin'  pets ! — He's  got  a  chicken- 
hawk, 

j    In  kind  o'  half-cage,  where  he  sets  out  in  the  gyarden-walk, 
And  got  that  wild  bird  trained  so  tame,  he'll  loose  him,  and 

he'll  fly 

!    Clean  to  the  woods ! — Doc  calls  his  name — and  he'll  come, 
by  and  by ! 

Some  says  no  money  down  'ud  buy  that  bird   o'   Doc. — 

Ner  no 
Inducement  to  the  bird,  says  I,  'at  he'd  let  Sifers  go ! 

483 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  Doc  ne  say  'at  he's  content — long  as  a  bird  o'  prey 
Kin  'bide  him,  it's  a  compliment,  and  takes  it  thataway. 

But,  gittin'  back  to  docterin'—a.\l  the  sick  and  in  distress, 
And  old  and  pore,  and  weak  and  small,  and  lone  and  moth 
erless, — 

I  jes'  tell  you  I  'predate  the  man  'at's  got  the  love 
To  "go  ye  forth  and  ministrate !"  as  Scriptur'  tells  us  of. 

Dull  times,  Doc  jes'  mtanders  round,  in  that  old  rig  o'  his : 
And  hain't  no  tellin'  where  he's  bound  ner  guessin'  where 

he  is  ; 

He'll  drive,  they  tell,  jes'  thataway  fer  maybe  six  er  eight 
Days  at  a  stretch ;  and  neighbers  say  he's  bin  clean  round 

the  State. 

He  picked  a'  old  tramp  up,  one  trip,  'bout  eighty  mil'd  from 

here. 
And  fetched  him  home  and  k-yored  his  hip,  and  kep'  him 

'bout  a  year ; 

And  feller  said — in  all  his  ja'nts  round  this  terreschul  ball 
'At  no  man  wuz  a  circumstance  to  Doc! — he  topped  'em 

all!— 

Said,  bark  o'  trees  's  a'  open  book  to  Doc,  and  vines  and 

moss 
He  read  like  writin' — with  a  look  knowed  ever'  dot  and 

cross : 
Said,  stars  at  night  wuz  jes'  as  good's  a  compass:  said,  he 

s'pose 
You  couldn't  lose  Doc  in  the  woods  the  darkest  night  that 

blows ! 

484 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Said,  Doc'll  tell  you,  purty  clos't,  by  unclerbresh  and  plants. 
How    fur   off   carter  is, — and    'most   perdict   the    sort   o' 

chance 

You'll  have  o'  findin'  fish;  and  how  they're  liable  to  bite, 
And  whether  they're  a-bitin'  now,  er  only  after  night. 

And,   whilse   we're   talkin*  fish, — I   mind   they    formed    a 

fishin'-crowd 
(When  folks  could  fish  'thout  gittin'  fined,  and  seinin'  wuz 

allowed !) 

O'  leadin'  citizens,  you  know,  to  go  and  seine  "Old  Blue" — 
But  hadn't  no  big  seine,  and  so — w'y,  what  wuz  they  to 

do?    ... 

And  Doc  he  say  he  thought  'at  he  could  knit  a  stitch  er 

two — 

"Bring  the  materials  to  me — 'at's  all  I'm  astin'  you !" 
And  down  he  sets — six  weeks,  i  jing!  and  knits  that  seine 

plum  done — 
Made  corks,  too,  brails  and  ever'thing — good  as  a  boughten 

one! 

Doc's  public  sperit— when  the  sick's  not  takin'  all  his  time 
And  he's  got  some  f  er  politics — is  simple  yit  sublime : — 
He'll  talk  his  principles — and  they  air  honest ; — but  the  sly 
Friend  strikes  him  first,  election-day,  he'd  'commodate,  er 

die ' 
-moo       --T^mnK  tcii)  Jog  bus  ,ilJo:rd-n3>bifb  Jadt  balid  bnA 

And  yit,  though  Doc,  as  all  men  knows,  is  square  straight 

up  and  down, 
That  vote  o'   his   is — well,   I   s'pose — the  cheapest  one   in 

town ; — 

485 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

A  fact  'at's  sad  to  verify,  as  could  be  done  on  oath — 
I've  voted  Doc  myse'f — And  I  was  criminal  fer  both! 

You  kin  corrupt  the  ballot-box — corrupt  yourse'f,  as  well — • 
Corrupt  some  neighbers, — but  old  Doc's  as  oncorruptible 
As  Holy  Writ.     So  putt  a  pin  right  there ! — Let  Sifers  be, 
I  jucks !  he  wouldn't  vote  ag'in'  his  own  worst  inimy ! 

When  Cynthy  Eubanks  laid  so  low  with  fever,  and  Doc 

Glenn 
Told   Euby   Cynth   'ud  haf   to   go — they  sends   fer  Sifers 

then!    .    .    . 
Doc  sized  the  case :   "She's  starved,"  says  he,  "fer  warter — 

yes,  and  meat! 
The  treatment  'at  she'll  git  from  me's  all  she  kin  drink  and 

eat !" 

He  orders  Euby  then  to  split  some  wood,  and  take  and 

build 
A   fire   in   kitchen-stove,   and   git  a   young   spring-chicken 

killed; 
And  jes'  whirled  in  and  th'owed  his  hat  and  coat  there  on 

the  bed, 
And    warshed    his    hands    and    sailed    in    that-air   kitchen, 

Euby  said, 

And  biled  that  chicken-broth,  and  got  that  dinner — all  com  - 

plete 

And  clean  and  crisp  and  good  and  hot  as  mortal  ever  eat ! 
And  Cynth  and  Euby  both'll  say  'at  Doc'll  git  as  good 
Meals-vittles  up,  jes'  any  day,  as  any  woman  could! 


486 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Time  Sister  Abbick  tuk  so  bad  with  striffen  o'  the  lung, 
P'tracted  Meetin',  where  she  had  jes'  shouted,  prayed,  and 

sung 
All   winter   long,    through   snow   and   thaw, — when    Sifers 

come,  says  he : 
"No,  M'lissy;  don't  poke  out  your  raw  and  cloven  tongue 

at  me ! — 

"I  know,  without  no  symptoms  but  them  injarubbcr-shoes 

You  promised  me  to  never  putt  a  fool-foot  in  ner  use 

At  purril  o'  your  life!"  he  said.     "And  I  won't  save  you 

now, 
Onless — here    on    your    dyin'    bed — you    consecrate    your 

vow !" 


Without  a-claimin'  any  creed,  Doc's  rail  religious  views 
Nobody   knows — ner   got   no   need   o'   knowin'    whilse   he 

choose 
To  be  heerd  not  of  man,  ner  raise  no  loud,  vain-glorious 

prayers 
In  crowded  marts,  er  public  ways,  er — i  jucks,  anywheres  ! — 

'Less'n  it  is  away  deep  down  in  his  own  heart,  at  night, 
Facin'  the  storm,  when  all  the  town's  a-sleepin'  snug  and 

tight— 
'  Him  splashin'  hence  from  scenes  o'  pride  and  sloth  and 

gilded  show, 
To    some   pore    sufferer's    bedside    o'    anguish,    don't   you 

know ! 

Er  maybe  dead  o'  winter — makes  no  odds  to  Doc, — he's  got 
To  face  the  weather  ef  it  takes  the  hide  off !  'cause  he'll  not 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Lie  out  o'  goin'  and  p'tend  he's  sick  hisse'f — like  some 
'At  1  could  name  'at  folks  might  send  fer  and  they'd  never 
come! 

Like  pore  Phin  Hoover — when  he  goes  to  that  last  dance  o1 

his 
That  Chris'mus  when  his  feet  wuz  froze — and  Doc  saved 

all  they  is 
Left  of  'em — "  'Nough,"  as  Phin  say  now,  "to  track  me  by, 

and  be 
A  adverfcment,  anyhow,  o'  what  Doc's  done  fer  me ! — 

"When  he  come — knife-and-saw" — Phin  say,  "I  knowed,  et 
I'd  the  spunk, 

'At  Doc  'ud  fix  me  up  some  way,  ef  nothin'  but  my  trunk 

Wuz  left,  he'd  fasten  casters  in  and  have  me,  spick-and- 
span, 

A-skootin'  round  the  streets  ag'in  as  spry  as  any  man !" 

Doc  sees  a  patient's  got  to  quit — he'll  ease  him  down  serene 
As  dozin'  off  to  sleep,  and  yit  not  dope  him  with  mor- 

phccn. — 
He  won't  tell  what — jes'  'lows  'at  he  has  "airnt  the  right  to 

sing 
'O  grave,   where   is   thy  victery?     O   death,   where  is  thy 

sting?'" 

And,  mind  ye  now ! — it's  not  in  scoff  and  scorn,  by  long 

degree, 

'At  Doc  gits  things  like  that-un  off:  it's  jes'  his  shority 
And  total  faith  in  Life  to  Come, — w'y,  "from  that  Land  o' 

Bliss," 
He  says,  "we'll  haf  to  chuckle  some,  a-lookin'  back  at  this !" 

488 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And,  still  in  p'int,  1  mind,  one  night  o'  'nitiation  at 

Some  secert  lodge,  'at  Doc  set  right  down  on  'em,  square 

and  flat, 
\Vhen  they  mixed  up  some  Scriptur'  and  wuz  funnin'-like. — 

w'y,  he 
Lit  in  'em  with  a  rep'imand  'at  ripped  'em,  A  to  Z ! 

And  onc't — when  gineral  loafin'-place  wuz  old  Shoe-Shop — 

and  all 
The  gang  'ud  git  in  there  and  brace  their  backs  ag'inst  the 

wall 

And  settle  questions  that  had  went  onscttled  long  enough, — • 
Like  "wuz  no  Heav'n — ner  no  torment" — jes'  talkin'  awfhl 

rough! 

There  wuz  Slokc  Haines  and  old  Ike  Knight  and  Coonrod 
Simmes — all  three 

Ag'inst  the  Bible  and  the  Light,  and  scouthY  Deity. 

"Science"  says  Ike,  "it  muonstrates — it  takes  nobody's 
word — 

Scriptur'  er  not, — it  'vcstigates  ef  sich  things  could  oc 
curred  !" 

Well,  Doc  he  heerd  this, — he'd  drapped  in  a  minute,  fer  to 

git 

A  tore-off  heel  pegged  on  ag'in, — and,  as  he  stood  on  it 
And  stomped  and  grinned,  he  says  to  Ike,  "I  s'pose  now, 

purty  soon 
Some      lightin'-bug,      indignant-like,      '11      'vestigate      the 

moon ! 


489 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

"No,  Ike,"  says  Doc,  "this  world  hain't  saw  no  brains  like 

yourn  and  mine 

With  sense  enough  to  grasp  a  law  'at  takes  a  brain  divine. — 
I've  bared  the  thoughts  of  brains  in  doubt,  and  felt  their 

finest  pulse, — • 
And  mortal  brains  jes'  won't  turn  out  omnipotent  results!" 

And  Doc  he's  got  respects  to  spare  the  rich  as  well  as 

pore — 
Says  he,   "I'd  turn  no  milllonnaire  onsheltered   from  my 

door."— 
Says  he,  "What's  wealth  to  him  in  quest  o'  honest  friends 

to  back 
And  love  him  fer  hisse'ff — not  jes'  because  he's  made  his 

jack !" 


And  childern.— Childcrn?    Lawzy-day !    Doc  worships  'em  ! 

— You  call 
Round  at  his  house  and  ast  'em !— they're  z-swarmin'  there 

—that's  all  !— 
They're  in  his  Lib'ry— in  best  room— in  kitchen— fur  and 

near, — 
In  office  too,  and,  I  p'sume,  his  operatin'-cheer ! 

You  know  they's  men  'at  bees  won't  sting?— They's  plaguy 

few, — but  Doc 
He's  one  o'  them.— And  same,  i  jing!  with  childern ;— they 

jes'  flock 

Round  Sifers  natchurl!—in  his  lap,  and  in  his  pockets,  too, 
And  in  his  old  fur  mitts  and  cap,  and  heart  as  warm  and 

true! 


490 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

It's  cur'ous,  too, — 'cause  Doc  hain't  got  no  childern  of  his 

own — 
'Ceptin'  the  ones  he's  tuk  and  brought  up,  'at's  bin  left 

alone 
And  orphans  when  their  father  died,  er  mother, — and  Doc 

he 
Has   he'pped   their   dyin*   satisfied. — "The   child   shall   live 

with  me 

"And  Winniferd,  my  wife,"  he'd  say,  and  stop  right  there, 

and  cle'r 
His  th'oat,  and  go  on  thinkin*  way  some  mother-hearts 

down  here 
Can't  never  feel  their  own  babe's  face  a-pressin'  'em,  ner 

make 
Their  naked  breasts  a  restin'-place  fer  any  baby's  sake. 

Doc's    Lt'b'ry — as    he    calls    it, — well,    they's    ha'f-a-dozen 

she'ves 
Jam-full  o'  books — I  couldn't  tell  how  many — count  your- 

se'ves ! 
One  whole  she'fs  Works  on  Medicine  I  and  most  the  rest's 

about 
First  Settlement,  and  Indians  in  here, — 'fore  we  driv  'em 

out. — 

And  Plutarch's  Lives — and  life  also  o'  Dan'el  Boone,  and 

this- 
Here    Mungo    Park,    and    Adam    Poe — jes*    all    the    lives 

they  is ! 

And  Doc's  got  all  the  novels  out, — by  Scott  and  Dickison 
And  Cooper. — And,  I  make  no  doubt,  he's  read  'em  ever* 

one! 

491 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Onc't,  in  his  office,  settin'  there,  with  crowd  o'  eight  er  nine 
Old  neighbers  with  the  time  to  spare,  and  Doc  a-feelin'  fine, 
A  man  rid  up  from  Rollins,  jes'  fcr  Doc  to  write  him  out 
Some  blame*   p'scription — done,    I   guess,   in   minute,   nigh 
about. — 

And  7  says,  "Doc,  you  'pear  so  spry,  jes'  write  me  that 

recei't 

You  have  fer  bein'  happy  by, — fer  that  'ud  shorely  beat 
Your  medicine!"  says  I. — And  quick  as  s'cat!  Doc  turned 

and  writ 
And  handed  me:     "Go  he'p  the  sick,  and  putt  your  heart 

in  it." 

And  then,   "A-talkin'    furder   'bout  that   line  o'  thought," 

says  he, 

"Ef  we'll  jcs'  do  the  work  cut  out  and  give'  to  you  and  me, 
We'll  lack  no  joy,  ner  appetite,  ner  all  we'd  ort  to  eat, 
And  sleep  like  childern  ever'  night — as  puore  and  ca'm  and 

sweet." 

!  ?>3v'3? 

Doc  has  bin  'cused  o'  offishncss  and  lack  o'  talkin'  free 
And  extry  friendly;  but  he  says,  "I'm  'feard  o'  talk,"  says 

he,- 

"I've  got,"  he  says,  "a  natchurl  turn  fer  talkin'  fit  to  kill.— 
The  best  and  hardest  thing  to  learn  is  trick  o'  keepin'  still." 

Doc  kin  smoke,  and  I  s'pose  he  might  drink  licker — jes'  fer 

fun. 
He  says,  "You  smoke,  you  drink  all  right;  but  1  don't— 

neether  one" — 


492 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Says.  "I  like  whisky — 'good  old  rye' — but  like  it  in  its  place. 
Like  that-air  warter  in  your  eye,  er  nose  there  on  your 
face." 

Doc's  bound  to  have  his  joke!     The  day  he  got  that  off 

on  me 

I  jes'  had  sold  a  load  o'  hay  at  "Scofield's  Livery," 
And  tolled  Doc  in  the  shed  they  kep'  the  hears't  in,  where 

I'd  hid 
The  stuff  'at  got  me  "out  o'  step,"  as  Sifers  said  it  did. 

Doc  hain't,  to  say,  no  "rollin'  stone"  and  yit  he  hain't  no 

hand 
Fer  'cumulating — Home's  his  own,  and  scrap  o'   farmin'- 

land — 
Enough  to  keep  him  out  the  way  when  folks  is  tuk  down 

sick 
The    suddentest — 'most    any   day   they    want    him    'special 

quick. 

And  yit  Doc  loves  his  practise;  ner  don't,  wilful,  want  to 

slight 

No  call — no  matter  who — how  fur  away — er  day  er  night. — 
He  loves  his  work — he   loves  his   friends — June,   Winter, 

Fall,  and  Spring: 
His    lovin' — facts    is — never    ends ;    he    loves    jes'    ever''- 

thing.    .     .    . 

'Cept — kcepin'  books.     He  never  sets  down  no  accounts.- — 

He  hates, 
The  worst  of  all,  collectin'  debts — the  worst,  the  more  *><? 

waits. — 

493 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

I've  knowed  him,  when  at  last  he  had  to  dun  a  man,  to  end 
By  makin'  him  a  loan — and  mad  he  hadn't  more  to  lend. 

When  Pence's  Drug  Store  ust  to  be  in  full  blast,  they  wu? 

some 
Doc's  patients  got  things  frekantly  there,  charged  to  him, 

i  gum ! — 
Doc  run  a  bill  there,  don't  you  know,  and  allus  when  he 

squared, 
He  never  questioned  nothin', — so  he  had  his  feelin's  spared. 

Now  sich  as  that,  I  hold  and  claim,  hain't  'scusable — it's  not 
Perfessional! — It's  jes*  a  shame  'at  Doc  hisse'f  hain't  got 
No  better  business-sense  I     That's  why  lots'd  respect  him 

more, 
And  not  give  him  the  clean  go-by  fer  other  docters.   Shore ! 

This-here  Doc  Glenn,  fer  instance;  er  this  little  jack-leg 
Hall;— 

They're  business — folks  respects  'em  fer  their  business 
more'n  all 

They  ever  knowed,  or  ever  will,  'bout  medicine. — Yit  they 

Collect  their  money,  k-yore  er  kill. — They're  business,  any 
way] 

You  ast  Jake  Dunn : — he's  worked  it  out  in  figgers. — He 

kin  show 

Statistics  how  Doc's  airnt  about  three  fortunes  in  a  row, — 
Ever'  ten-year'  hand-runnin'  straight — three  of  'em — thirty 

year' 
'At  Jake  kin  count  and  'lucidate  o'  Sifers'  practise  here. 


494 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Vit — "Praise  the  Lord,"  says  Doc,   "we've  got  our   little 

home  !"  says  he — 
"(It's  railly  Winniferd's,  but  what  she  owns,   she  sheers 

with  me.) 

We'  got  our  little  gyarden-spot,  and  peach  and  apple  trees, 
And  stable,  too,  and  chicken-lot,  and  eighteen  hive'  o'  bees." 

You  call  it  anything  you  please,  but  it's  witchcraft — the 

power 
'At  Sifers  has  o'  handlin'  bees ! — He'll  watch  'em  by  the 

hour — 
Mix  right  amongst  'em,  mad  and  hot  and  swarmin' ! — yit 

they  won't 
Sting  him,  er  want  to — 'pear  to  not, — at  least  I  know  they 

don't. 

With  me  and  bees  they's  no  p' tense  o'  sociability — 

A  dad-burn  bee  'ud  climb  a  fence  to  git  a  whack  at  me! 

I  s'pose  no  thing  'at's  got  a  sting  is  railly  satisfied 

It's  sharp  enough,  ontel,  i  jing!  he's  honed  it  on  my  hide! 

And  Doc  he's  allus  had  a  knack  inventin'  things. — Dee-vised 
A  windlass  wound  its  own  se'f  back  as  it  run  down :  and 

s'prised  ;JH 

Their  new  hired  girl  with  clothes-line,  too,  and  clothes-pins, 

all  in  one: 
Purt'  nigh  all  left  fer  her  to  do  wuz  git  her  primpin'  donel 

And  onc't,  I  mind,  in  airly  Spring,  and  tappin'  sugar  trees, 
Doc  made  a  dad-burn  little  thing  to  sharpen  spiles  with— 
these- 


495 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Here  wood'-spouts  'at  the  peth's  punched  out,  and  driv'  in 

where  they  bore 
The  auger-holes.     He  sharpened  'bout  a  million  spiles  er 

more ! 

And  Doc's  the  first  man  ever  swung  a  bucket  on  a  tree 
Instid  o'  troughs;  and  first  man  brung  grained  sugar — so's 

'at  he 
Could   use   it   fer   his   coffee,   and    fer   cookin',   don't   you 

know. — 
Folks  come  clean  up  from  Pleasantland  'fore  they'd  believe 

it,  though! 

And  all  Doc's  stable-doors  owlocks  and  locks  theirse'ves — 

and  gates 
The  same  way; — all  rigged   up  like  clocks,   with  pulleys, 

wheels,  and  weights, — 
So,  's  Doc  says,  "Drivin'  out,  er  in,  they'll  open;  and  they'll 

then, 
All  quiet-like,  shet  up  ag'in  like  little  gentlemen !" 

And  Doc  'ud  made  a  mighty  good  detective. — Neighbers  all 
Will  testify  to  that — er  could,  ef  they  wuz  legal  call  : 
His  theories  on  any  crime  is  worth  your  listenin'  to. — 
And  he  has  hit  'em,  many  a  time,  long  'fore  established  true 

At  this  young  druggist  Wenfield  Pence's  trial  fer  his  life, 

On  primy  faishy  evidence  o'  pizonin'  his  wife 

Doc's  testimony  saved   and  cle'red   and  'quitted  him   and 

freed 
Him  so's  he  never  even  'peared  cog-m>ant  of  the  deed ! 


496 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

The  facts  wuz — Sifers  testified, — at  inquest  he  had  found 
The  stunimick  showed  the  woman  died  o'  pizon,  but  had 

downed 
The  dos't  herse'f, — because  amount  and  cost  o'  drug  im- 

ployed 
No  druggist  would,  on  no  account,  'a'  lavished  and  dis- 

troyed ! 

:  3«iU£D  £  li/orlliw  Ui>J  bus  ,om  19  trov  ZR  TID  oJ  'qc  aA. 
Doc  tracked  a  blame-don  burglar  down,   and  nailed  the 

scamp,  to  boot, 

But  told  him  ef  he'd  leave  the  town  he  wouldn't  prosecute. 
He  traced  him  by  a  tied-up  thumb-print  in   fresh  putty, 

where 
Doc  glazed  it.    Jes'  that's  how  he  come  to  track  him  to  his 

lair! 

I    nv/oJ  3iff  ni  ncm  J=->,l  brrc  ;  ariil-J^jbml-i^Jicv/  'nirmoV^LJ 
Doc's  jes'  a  te^te  too  inclined,  some  thinks,  to  overlook 
The  criminal  and  vicious  kind  we'd  ort  to  bring  to  book 
And  punish,  'thout  no  extry  show  o'  sympathizing  where 
They  hain't  showed  none  fer  us,  you  know.    But  he  takes 

issue  there : 

Doc  argies  'at  "The  Red-eyed  Law,"  as  he  says,  "ort  ta 

learn 

To  lay  a  mighty  leenient  paw  on  deeds  o'  sich  concern 
As   only  the   Good    Bein'   knows   the   wherefore    of,    and 

spreads 
His  hands  above  accused  and  sows  His  mercies  on  their 

heads." 

Doc  even  holds  'at  murder  hain't  no  crime  we  got  a  right 
To  hang  a  man  fer — claims  it's  taint  o'  lunacy,  er  quite. — 

497 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

"Hold  slch  a  man   responsibul  fer  murder,"   Doc  says, — 

"then, 
When  he's  hung,  where's  the  rope  to  pull  them  sound-mind 


"It's  in  a  nutshell — all  kin  see,"  says  Doc, — "it's  cle'r  the 

Law's 

As  ap'  to  err  as  you  er  me,  and  kill  without  a  cause : 
The  man  most  innocent  o'  sin  I've  saw,  er  'sped  to  see, 
Wuz  servin'  a  life-sentence  in  the  penitentchury." 

And   Doc's   a   whole  hand   at  a  fire! — directin'   how   and 

where 
To  set  your  ladders,  low  er  higher,  and  what  first  duties 

air, — 

Like  formin'  warter-bucket-line ;  and  best  man  in  the  town 
To  chop  holes  in  old  roofs,  and  mine  defective  chimblies 

down : 

Er  durin'  any  public  crowd,  mass-meetin',  er  big  day, 
Where  ladies  ortn't  be  allowed,  as  I've  heerd  Sifers  say,— 
When  they's  a  suddent  rush  somewhere,  it's  Doc's  voice, 

ca'm  and  cle'r, 
Says,  "Fall  back,  men,  and  give  her  air ! — that's  all  she's 

faintin'  fer." 

bfi£    ,*o   STOT-ITMIW    3(fi    wouA   'nbH    boor)    oifj    vjiJi- 
The  sorriest  I  ever  feel  fer  Doc  is  when  some  show 
Er  circus  comes  to  town  and  he'll  not  git  a  chance  to  go. 
'Cause  he  jes'  natchurly  flights  in  circuses — clean  down 
From  tumblers,  in  their  spangled  tights,  to  trick-mule  and 

Old  Clown. 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  ever'body  knows  it,  too,  how  Doc  is,  thataway !    .    .    . 
I  mind  a  circus  onc't  come  through — wuz  there  myse'f  that 

day. — 
Ring-master  cracked  his  whip,  you  know,  to  start  the  ridin' 

— when 

In  runs  Old  Clown  and  hollers  "Whoa! — Ladies  and  gen 
tlemen 

-  -.Tiion  ~£tri;g}fn  .b'^-tt/jdi  f>m  3>l£rn  II1  TV*  -jfio-Ufi  'A 

"Of  this  vast  audience,  I  fain  would  make  inquiry  cle'r, 
And  learn,  find  out,  and  ascertain — Is  Doctor  Sifers  here?" 
And  when  some  fool-voice  bellers  down :    "He  is !     He's 

settin'  in 

Full  view  o'  ye !"    "Then,"  says  the  Clown,  "the  circus  may 
begin!" 

''''id  GJ  Vvi  I/aw  ?£  'gdi^zbiJd  i>;i:t  HI;  vcniflj  !>;?£  r-^bi  •;;;"// 
Doc's  got  a  temper;  but,  he  says,  he's  learnt  it  which  is 

boss, 
Yit  has  to  watch  it,  more  er  less.    ...    I  never  seen  him 

cross 
But  onc't,  enough  to  make  him  swear ; — milch-cow  stepped 

on  his  toe, 
And  Doc  ripped  out  "/  doggies!" — There's  the  only  case  I 

know. 

Doc  says  that's  what  your  temper's  fer — to  hold  back  out 

o'  view, 

And  learn  it  never  to  occur  on  out  ahead  o'  you. — 
"You  lead  the  way,"  says  Sifers — "git  your  temper  back  in 

line — 
And  furdest  back  the  best,  ef  it's  as  mean  a  one  as  mine !" 

He  hates  contentions — can't  abide  a  wrangle  er  dispute 
O'  any  kind;  and  he  'ull  slide  out  of  a  crowd  and  skoot 

499 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Up  some  back-alley  'fore  he'll  stand  and  listen  TO  a  furse 
When  ary  one's  got  upper-hand  and  t'other  one's  got  worse. 

Doc   says :    "I   'spise,   when  pore   and   weak  and   awk'ard 

talkers  fails, 
To   see  it's  them  with  hardest  cheek  and  loudest  mouth 

pervails. — 

A'  all-one-sided  quarr'l  '11  make  me  biassed,  mighty  near, — 
'Cause  ginerly  the  side  I  take's  the  one  I  never  hear." 
"\VV>&  vvA'i6  "UiVit^l  v\— uisntr;;-i;  JMt£  .iij.o.I.inft  ,in/;;;f  ln\>. 

What   'peals   to   Doc  the   most   and  best   is   "seein'    folks 

agreed, 

And  takin'  ekal  interest  and  universal  heed 
O'  ever'body  else's  words  and  idies — same  as  we 
Wuz  glad  and  chirpy  as  the  birds — jes'  as  we'd  art  to  be!" 

And  pater  otic!    Like  to  git  Doc  started,  full  and  fair, 
About  the  war,  and  why  't'uz  fit,  and  what  wuz  'complished 

there ; 
"And  who  wuz  wrong"  says  Doc,  "er  right,  't'uz  waste  o' 

blood  and  tears, 
All  prophesied  in  Black  and  White  fer  years  and  years  and 


And  then  he'll  likely  kind  o'  tetch  on  old  John  Brown,  and 

dwell 
On  what  his  warnin's  wuz ;  and  ketch  his  breath  and  cough, 

and  tell 
On    down    to    Lincoln's    death.     And    then — well,    he    jes' 

chokes  and  quits 
With  "I  must  go  now,  gentlemen !"  and  grabs  his  hat,  and 

gits! 

500 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Doc's  own  war-rickord  wuzn't  won  so  much  in  line  o'  fight 
As  line  o'  work  and  nussin'  done  the  wownded,  day  and 

night. — 
His  wuz  the  hand,  through  dark  and  dawn,  'at  bound  their 

wownds,  and  laid 
As  soft  as  their  own  mother's  on  their  forreds  when  they 

prayed.     .     .     . 

His  wuz  the  face  they  saw  the  first — all  dim,  but  smilin' 
bright, 

As  they  come  to  and  knowed  the  worst,  yit  saw  the  old 
Red-White- 

And-Blue  where  Doc  had  fixed  it  where  they'd  see  it 
wavin'  still, 

Out  through  the  open  tent-flap  there,  er  'crost  the  winder- 
sill. 

And  some's  a-limpin'  round  here  yit — a-waitin'  Last  Re 
view, — 

'Ud  give  the  pensions  'at  they  git,  and  pawn  their  crutches, 
too, 

To  he'p  Doc  out,  ef  he  wuz  pressed  financial' — same  as  he 

Has  allus  he'pped  them  when  distressed — ner  never  tuk  a 
fee. 

Doc  never  wuz  much  hand  to  pay  attention  to  p'tcnsc 
And  fuss-and-f eathers  and  display  in  men  o'  prominence : 
"A    railly   great   man,"    Sifers   'lows,    "is    not   the   out'ard 

dressed — 
All  uniform,  salutes  and  bows,  and  swellin'  out  his  chest. 


501 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

"I  met  a  great  man  onc't,"  Doc  says,  "and  shuk  his  hand," 

says  he, 

"And  he  come  'bout  in  one,  I  guess,  o'  disapp'intin*  me — 
He  talked  so  common-like,  and  brought  his  mind  so  cle'r 

in  view 
And  simple-like,  I  purt'  nigh  .thought,  'I'm  best  man  o'  the 

two !' " 

Yes-JtV/  Doc's  got  convictions  and  old-fashioned  kind  o' 

ways 
And  idies  'bout  this  glorious  Land  o'  Freedom ;  and  he'll 

raise 

His  hat  clean  off,  no  matter  where,  jes'  ever'  time  he  sees 
The  Stars  and  Stripes  a-floatin'  there  and  flappin'  in  the 

breeze. 

And  tunes  like  old  "Red-White-and-Blue"  '11  fairly  drive 

him  wild, 
Played  on  the  brass  band,  marchin'  through  the  streets ! 

Jes'  like  a  child 
I've  saw  that  man,  his  smile  jes'  set,  all  kind  o'  pale  and 

white, 
Bareheaded,  and  his  eyes  all  wet,  yit  dancin'  with  delight ! 

And  yit,  that  very  man  we  see  all  trimbly,  pale  and  wann, 
Give  him  a  case  o'  surgery,  we'll  see  another  man  ! — 
We'll  do  the  trimblin'  then,  and  we'll  git  white  around  the 

gills— 
He'll  show  us  nerve  o'  nerves,  and  he  'ull  show  us  skill  o' 

skills ! 


502 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Then  you  could  toot  your  horns  and  beat  your  drums  and 

bang  your  guns, 
And  wave  your  flags  and  march  the  street,  and  charge,  all 

Freedom's  sons ! — 

And  Sifers  then,  1  bet  my  hat,  'ud  never  flinch  a  hair, 
But,  stiddy-handed,  'tend  to  that  pore  patient  layin1  there. 

And  Sifers'  eye's  as  stiddy  as  that  hand  o'  his ! — He'll  shoot 
A'  old-style  rifle,  like  he  has,  and  smallest  bore,  to  boot, 
With  any  fancy  rifles  made  to-day,  er  expert  shot 
'At  works  at  shootin'  like  a  trade — and  all  some  of  'em'1? 
got! 

'.H[-/Krrr" -T  »  ".ib/iM1*  10 '",>Ltoi"  botafi'jTd-sMrfob  ^iJ  }I;QT^  A 
Let  'em  go  right  out  in  the  woods  with  Doc,  and  leave  theii 

"traps" 
And  blame'  glass-balls  and  queensware-goods,  and  see  how 

Sifers  draps 

A  squirrel  out  the  tallest  tree. — And  'fore  he  fires  he'll  say 
Jes'  where  he'll  hit  him — yes,  sir-ee!     And  he's  hit  that- 

away! 

i»lj,,-, 

Let  'em  go  out  with  him,   i  jucks!   with  fishin'-pole  and 

gun,— 

And  ekal  chances,  fish  and  ducks,  and  take  the  rain,  er  sun, 
Jes'  as  it  pours,  er  as  it  blinds  the  eyesight ;  then  I  guess 
'At  they'd  acknowledge,  in  their  minds,  their  disadvantages. 

And  yit  he'd  be  the  last  man  out  to  flap  his  wings  and  crow 
Tnsultin'-like,  and  strut  about  above  his  fallen  foe ! — 
No-jiV/  the  hand  'at  tuk  the  wind  out  o'  their  sails  'ud  be 
The  very  first  they  grabbed,  and  grinned  to  feel  sich  sym 
pathy. 

503 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Doc  gits  off  now  and  then  and  takes  a  huntin'-trip  some 
where 

'Bont  Kankakee,  up  'mongst  the  lakes — sometimes'll  drift 
round  there 

In  his  canoe  a  week  er  two ;  then  paddle  clean  on  back 

By  way  o'  old  Wabash  and  Blue,  with  fish — all  he  kin 
pack, — 

jn.-..ri?  [I'.sH— -!  ?.irl  'o  Im^ii  .tr.fb  S.R  vbbiie  ,-f,  ?/'>//>  '^T^tiri  b'rt/x 

And  wild  ducks — some  with  feathers  on  'em  yit,  and  stuffed 

with  grass. 
And  neighbers — all  knows  he's  bin  gone — comes  round  and 

gits  a  bass — 
A  great  big  double-breasted  "rock,"  er  "black,"  er  maybe 

pair 
Half  fills  a'  ordinary  crock.     .    .    .     Doc's  fish'll  give  out 

there 


Long  'fore  his  ducks! — But  folks'll  smile  and  blandish  him, 

and  make 
Him  tell  and  tell  things! — all  the  while  enjoy  'em  jes'  fer 

sake 
O'  pleasin'  him;  and  then  turn  in  and  la'nch  him  from  the 

start 
A-tellin'  all  the  things  ag'in  they  railly  know  by  heart. 

He's  jes'  a  child,  's  what  Sifers  is!    And-sir,  I'd  ruther  see 
That  happy,  childish  face  o'  his,  and  puore  simplicity, 
Than  any  shape  er  style  er  plan  o'  mortals  otherwise — 
With  perfect  faith  in  God  and  man  a-shinin'  in  his  eyes. 


TAMAM 


504 


A  CHILD-WORLD 


251  The  Child-World 

A  CHILD-WORLD,  yet  a  wondrous  world  no  less, 
To  those  who  knew  its  boundless  happiness. 
A  simple  old  frame  house — eight  rooms  in  all — 
Set  just  'one  side  the  center  of  a  small 
But  very  hopeful   Indiana  town, — 
The    upper    story    looking    squarely    down 
Upon  the  main  street,  and  the  main  highway 
From  East  to  West, — historic  in  its  day, 
Known  as  The  National  Road — old-timers,   all 
Who   linger   yet,   will   happily   recall 
It  as  the  scheme  and  handiwork,  as  well 
As  property,  of  "Uncle  Sam,"  and  tell 
Of  its  importance,  "long  and  long  afore 
Railroads   wuz   ever   drcamp'   of !" — Furthermore 
The    reminiscent    first    inhabitants 
Will  make  that  old   road  blossom  with   romance 
Of  snowy  caravans,  in  long  parade 
Of  covered  vehicles,  of  every  grade 
From  ox-cart  of  most  primitive  design, 
To  Conestoga  wagons,  with  their  fine 
Deep-chested    six-horse    teams,    in    heavy   gear, 
High  hames  and  chiming  bells — to  childish  ear 
And  eye  entrancing  as  the  glittering  train 
Of  some  sun-smitten  pageant  of  old  Spain. 
505 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And,  in  like  spirit,  haply  they  will  tell 

You  of  the  roadside  forests,  and  the  yell 

Of  "wolfs"  and  "painters,"  in  the  long  night-ride, 

And  "screechin'  catamounts"  on  every  side. — 

Of  stage-coach  days,  highwaymen,  and  strange  crimes, 

And  yet  unriddled  mysteries  of  the  times 

Called  "Good  Old."    "And  why  'Good  Old'?"  once  a 

rare 

Old  chronicler  was  asked,  who  brushed  the  hair 
Out  of  his  twinkling  eyes  and  said, — "Well,  John, 
They're    'good    old   times'   because    they're    dead    and 


The  old  home  site  was  portioned  into  three 

Distinctive    lots.      The    front    one — natively 

Facing  to   southward,   broad   and   gaudy-fine 

With  lilac,  dahlia,  rose,  and  flowering  vine— 

The   dwelling   stood   in ;    and   behind   that,    and 

Upon  the  alley  north  and  south,  left  hand, 

The  old  wood-house, — half,  trimly  stacked  with  wood, 

And  half,  a  workshop,  where  a  work-bench  stood 

Steadfastly  through  all  seasons. — Over  it, 

Along   the   wall,  hung  compass,  brace-and-bit, 

And  square,  and  drawing-knife,  and  smooth  ing-plane— 

And  little  jack-plane,  too— the  children's  vain 

Possession  by  pretense — in  fancy  they 

Manipulating  it  in  endless  play, 

Turning  out  countless  curls  and  loops  of  bright, 

Fine   satin    shavings — Rapture   infinite! 

Shelved  quilting-frames ;  the  tool-chest ;  the  old  box 

Of  refuse  nails  and  screws;  a  rough  gun-stock's 


506 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Outline  in  "curly  maple";  and  a  pair 

Of  clamps  and  old  kraut-cutter  hanging  there. 

Some  "patterns,"  in  thin  wood,  of  shield  and  scroll, 

Hung  higher,  with  a  neat  "cane-fishing  pole" 

And  careful  tackle — all  securely  out 

Of  reach  of  children,  rumaging  about. 

Beside  the  wood-house,  with  broad  branches  free 

Yet  close  above  the  roof,   an  apple-tree 

Known  as  "The  Prince's  Harvest" — Magic  phrase! 

That  was  a  boy's  own  tree,  in  many  ways ! — 

Its  girth  and  height  meet  both  for  the  caress 

Of  his  bare  legs  and  his  ambitiousness : 

And  then  its  apples,  humoring  his  whim, 

Seemed  just  to  fairly  hurry  ripe  for  him — 

Even   in  June,    impetuous   as   he, 

They  dropped  to  meet  him,  half-way  up  the  tree. 

And  O  their  bruised  sweet  faces  where  they  fell ! — 

And  ho !  the  lips  that  feigned  to  "kiss  them  well"! 

"The  Old  Sweet-Apple  Tree,"  a  stalwart,  stood 

In   fairly   sympathetic  neighborhood 

Of  this   wild  princeling  with  his   early  gold 

To  toss  about  so  lavishly  nor  hold 

In  bounteous  hoard  to  overbrim   at  once 

All  Nature's  lap  when  came  the  Autumn  months. 

Under  the  spacious  shade  of  this  the  eyes 

Of  swinging  children  saw  swift-changing  skies 

Of  blue  and  green,  with   sunshine  shot  between, 

And  "when  the  old  cat  died"  they  saw  but  green. 

And,  then,  there  was  a  cherry  tree. — We  all 

And  severally  will  yet  recall 

SO? 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

From  our  lost  youth,  in  gentlest  memory, 
The  hlessed  fact — There  was  a  cherry  tree. 

There  was  a  cherry  tree.     Its  bloomy  snows 
Cool  even  now  the  fevered  sight  that  knows 
No  more  its  airy  visions  of  pure  joy — 
As  when  you  were  a  boy. 

There  was  a  cherry  tree.     The  Bluejay  set 
His  blue  against  its  white — O  blue  as  jet 
He  seemed  there  then! — But  now — Whoever  knew 
He  was  so  pale  a  blue! 

There  was  a  cherry  tree — Our  child-eyes  saw 
The  miracle: — Its  pure  white  snows  did  thaw 
Into  a  crimson  fruitage,  far  too  sweet 
But  for  a  boy  to  eat. 

There  was  a  cherry  tree,  give  thanks  and  joy! 
There  was  a  bloom  of  snow — There  was  a  boy — 
There  was  a  Bluejay  of  the  realest  blue — 
And  fruit  for  both  of  you. 

Then  the  old  garden,  with  the  apple  trees 

Grouped  round  the  margin,  and  "a  stand  of  bees" 

By  the  "white-winter-pearmain" ;   and  a  row 

Of  currant-bushes;   and  a  quince  or  so. 

The  old  grape-arbor  in  the  center,  by 

The  pathway  to  the  stable,  with  the  sty 

Behind  it,  and  upon  it,  cootering  flocks 

Of  pigeons, — and  the  cutest  "martin-box"  ! — 

Made  like  a  sure-enough  house — with  roof,  and  doors 

And  windows  in  it,  and  veranda-floors 

And  balusters  all  round  it — yes,  and  at 

Each  end  a  chimney — -"painted  red  at  that 

And  penciled  white,  to  look  like  little  bricks; 

And,  to  cap  all  the  builder's  cunning  tricks, 


508 


THE   HOOS1ER   BOOK 

Two  tiny  little  lightning-rods   were  run 

Straight  up  their  sides,  and  twinkled  in  the  sun. 

Who  built  ic?    Nay,  no  answer  but  a  smile. — 

It  may  be  you  can  guess  who,  afterwhile. 

Home  in  his  stall,  "Old  Sorrel"  munched  his  hay 

And  oats  and  corn,  and  switched  the  flies  away, 

In  a  repose  of  patience  good  to  see, 

And.  earnest  of  the  gentlest  pedigree. 

With   half  pathetic  eye   sometimes  he  gazed 

Upon  the  gambols  of  a  colt  that  grazed 

Around  the  edges  of  the  lot  outside, 

And   kicked   at  nothing   suddenly,   and    tried 

To  act  grown-up  and  graceful  and  high-bred, 

But  dropped,  k' whop  I  and  scraped  the  buggy-shed, 

Leaving  a  tuft  of  woolly,   foxy  hair 

Under  the  sharp-end  of  a  gate-hinge  there. 

Then,  all  ignobly  scrambling  to  his  feet 

And  whinnying  a  whinny  like  a  bleat, 

He  would  pursue  himself  around  the  lot 

And — do  the  whole  thing  over,  like  as  not!  .  ;•'•;''' 

Ah!  what  a  life  of  constant  fear  and  dread 

And  flop  and  squawk  and  flight  the  chickens  led  ! 

Above  the  fences,  either  side,  were  seen 

The  neighbor-houses,  set  in  plots  of  green 

Dooryards    and   greener   gardens,    tree    and    wall 

Alike  whitewashed,  and  order  in  it  all : 

The  scythe  hooked  in  the  tree-fork;  and  the  spade 

And  hoe  and  rake  and  shovel  all,  when  laid 

Aside,   were  in  their  places,  ready  for 

The  hand  of  either  the  possessor  or 

Of  any  neighbor,  welcome  to  the  loan 

Of  any  tool  he  might  not  chance  to  own. 

509 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 
252  The  Old  Home-Folks 

SUCH  was  the  Child-World  of  the  long-ago— 
The  little  world  these  children  used  to  know : — 
Johnty,  the  oldest,  and  the  best,  perhaps, 
Of  the  five  happy  little  Hoosier  chaps 
Inhabiting  this  wee  world  all  their  own. — • 
Johnt}',  the  leader,  with  his  native  tone 
Of  grave  command — a  general  on  parade 
Whose  punctilious  order  was  obeyed 
By  his  proud  followers. 

But  Johnty  yet — 

After  all  serious  duties — could  forget 
' 

The  gravity  of  life  to  the  extent, 

At  times,  of  kindling  much  astonishment 

About  him  :   With  a  quick,  observant  eye, 

And  mind  and  memory,  he  could  supply 

The  tamest  incident  with  liveliest  mirth ; 

And  at  the  most  unlooked-for  times  on  earth 

Was  wont  to  break  into  some  travesty 

On  those  around  him — feats  of  mimicry 

Of  this  one's  trick  of  gesture — that  one's  walk — 

Or  this  one's  laugh — or  that  one's  funny  talk, — 

The  way  "the  watermelon-man"  would  try 

His  humor  on  town-folks  that  wouldn't  buy ; — 

How  he  drove  into  town  at  morning — then 

At  dusk  (alas!)  how  he  drove  out  again. 

Though  these  divertisements  of  Johnty's  were 
Hailed  with  a  hearty  glee  and  relish,  there 
Appeared  a  sense,  on  his  part,  of  regret — 
A  spirit  of  remorse  that  would  not  let 
5*0 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Him  rest  for  days  thereafter. — Such  times  he, 

As  some  boy  said,  "jist  got  too  overly 

Blame'  good  fer  common  boys  like  us,  you  know, 

To  '.yociate  with — 'less'n  we  'ud  go 

And  jine  his  church  !" 

Next  after  Johnty  came 
His  little  towhead  brother,  Bud  by  name. — 
And  O  how  white  his  hair  was — and  how  thick 
His  face  with  freckles, — and  his  ears,  how  quick 
And  curious  and  intrusive ! — And  how  pale 
The  blue  of  his  big  eyes ; — and  how  a  tale 
Of  Giants,  Trolls  or  Fairies,  bulged  them  still 
Bigger  and  bigger ! — and  when  "Jack"  would  kill 
The  old  "Four-headed  Giant,"  Bud's  big  eyes 
Were  swollen  truly  into  giant-size. 
And  Bud  was  apt  in  make-believes — would  hear 
His  Grandma  talk  or  read,  with  such  an  ear 
And  memory  of  both  subject  and  big  words, 
That  he  would  take  the  book  up  afterwards 
And  feign  to  "read  aloud,"  with  such  success 
As  caused  his  truthful  elders  real  distress. 
But  he  must  have  big  words — they  seemed  to  give, 
Extremer  range  to  the  superlative — 
That  was  his  passion.    "My  Gran'ma,"  he  said, 
One  evening,  after  listening  as  she  read 
Some  heavy  old  historical  review — 
With  copious  explanations  thereunto 
Drawn  out  by  his  inquiring  turn  of  mind, — 
"My  Gran'ma  she's  read  all  books — ever'  kind 
They  is,  'at  tells  all  'bout  the  land  an'  sea 
An'  Nations  of  the  Earth ! — An'  she  is  the 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Historicul-est  woman  ever  wuz  !" 

(Forgive  the  verse's  chuckling  as  it  does 

In  its  erratic  current. — Oftentimes 

The  little  willowy  water-brook  of  rhymes 

Must  falter  in  its  music,  listening  to 

The  children  laughing  as  they  used  to  do.) 

Who  shall  sing  a  simple  ditty  all  about  the  Willow 
Dainty-fine  and  delicate  as  any  bending  spray 

That  dandles  high  the  happy  bird  that  flutters  there  to  trill  a 
Tremulously  tender  song  of  greeting  to  the  May. 

Bravest,  too,  of  all  the  trees! — none  to  match  your  daring, 
First  of  greens  to  greet  the  Spring  and  lead  in  leafy  sheen 

Ay,  and  you're  the  last — almost  into  winter  wearing 
Still  the  leaf  of  loyalty— still  the  badge  of  green. 

Ah,  my  lovely  Willow!— Let  the  Waters  lilt  your  graces,— 
They  alone  with  limpid  kisses  lave  your  leaves  above, 

Flashing  back  your  sylvan  beauty,  and  in  shady  places 
Peering  up  with  glimmering  pebbles,  like  the  eyes  of  love. 

Next,  Maymie,  with  her  hazy  cloud  of  hair, 
And  the  blue  skies  of  eyes  beneath  it  there. 
Her  dignified  and  "little  lady"  airs 
Of  never  either  romping  up  the  stairs 
Or  falling  down  them ;  thoughtful  every  way 
Of  others  first— The  kind  of  child  at  play 
That  "gave  up,"  for  the  rest,  the  ripest  pear 
Or  peach  or  apple  in  the  garden  there 
Beneath  the  trees  where  swooped  the  airy  swing- 
She  pushing  it,  too  glad  for  anything ! 
Or,  in  the  character  of  hostess,  she 
Would  entertain  her  friends  delightfully 


512 


THE   HOOS1ER   BOOK 

In  her  playhouse, — with  strips  of  carpet  laid 

Along  the  garden-fence  within  the  shade 

Of  the  old  apple  trees — where  from  next  yard 

Came  the  two  dearest  friends  in  her  regard, 

The  little  Crawford  girls,  Ella  and  Lu— 

As  shy  and  lovely  as  the  lilies  grew 

In  their  idyllic  home, — yet  sometimes  they 

Admitted  Bud  and  Alex  to  their  play, 

Who  did  their  heavier  work  and  helped  them  fix 

To  have  a  "Festibul" — and  brought  the  bricks 

And  built  the  "stove,"  with  a  real  fire  and  all, 

And   stove-pipe   joint   for   chimney,    looming  tall 

And   wonderfully  smoky — even   to 

Their  childish  aspirations,   as   it  blew 

And  swooped  and  swirled  about  them  till  their  sight 

Was    feverish   even    as    their   high    delight. 

Then  Alex,  with  his  freckles,  and  his  freaks 

Of  temper,  and  the  peach-bloom  of  his  cheeks, 

And  "amber-colored  hair" — his  mother  said 

'Twas  that,  when  others  laughed  and  called  it  "red" 

And  Alex  threw  things  at  them— till  they'd  call 

A  truce,  agreeing  "  't'uz  n't  red  ut-tall!" 

But  Alex  was  affectionate  beyond 

The  average  child,  and  was  extremely  fond 

Of  the  paternal  relatives  of  his 

Or  whom  he  once  made  estimate  like  this : — 

"I'm  only  got  two  brothers, — but  my  Pa 

He's  got  most  brothers'n  you  ever  saw! — 

He's  goth  seben  brothers '.—Yes,   an'  they're  all  my 

Seben  Uncles! — Uncle  John,  an'  Jim, — an'  I' 

Got  Uncle  George,  an'  Uncle  Andy,  too, 

An'  Uncle  Frank,  an'  Uncle  Joe. — An'  you 

513 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Knoiv  Uncle  Mart. — An',  all  but  him,  they're  great 
Big  mens! — An'  nen's  Aunt  Sarah — She  makes  eight! — 
I'm  got  eight  uncles ! — 'cept  Aunt  Sarah  can't 
Be  ist  my  uncle  'cause  she's  ist  my  aunt!" 

— n  !  kilt;  r-: ii'-i    ,'f  •!••.:  ;,  •isfwin".;  '.I;1:.  •••.. 
Then,  next  to  Alex — and  the  last  indeed 
Of  these  five  little  ones  of  whom  you  read — 
Was  baby  Lizzie,  with  her  velvet  lisp, — 
As  though  her  elfin  lips  had  caught  some  wisp 
Of  floss  between  them  as  they  strove  with  speech, 
Which  ever  seemed  just  in,  yet  out  of,  reach — 
Though  what  her  lips  missed,  her  dark  eyes  could  say 
With  looks  that  made  her  meaning  clear  as  day. 

And,  knowing  now  the  children,  you  must  know 

The  father  and  the  mother  they  loved  so: — 

The   father  was  a  swarthy  man,  black-eyed, 

Black-haired,    and   high   of    forehead;    and,   beside 

The  slender  little  mother,   seemed  in  truth 

A  very  king  of  men — since,  from  his  youth, 

To  his  hale  manhood  now — (worthy  as  then, — 

A  lawyer  and  a  leading  citizen 

Of  the  proud  little  town  and  county-seat — 

His  hopes  his  neighbors',  and  their   fealty  sweet)  — 

He  had  known  outdoor  labor — rain  and  shine — 

Bleak  Winter,  and  bland  Summer — foul  and  fine. 

So  Nature  had  ennobled  him  and  set 

Her  symbol  on  him  like  a  coronet: 

His  lifted  brow,  and  frank,  reliant  face.— 

Superior  of  stature  as  of  grace, 

Even  the  children  by  the  spell  were  wrought 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Up  to  heroics  of  their  simple  thought, 

And  saw  him,  trim  of  build,  and  lithe  and  straight 

And  tall,  almost,  as  at  the  pasture-gate 

The  towering  ironweed  the  scythe  had  spared 

For  their  sakes,  when  The  Hired  Man  declared 

It  would  grow  on  till  it  became  a  tree, 

With  cocoanuts  and  monkeys  in — maybe! 

Yet,  though  the  children,  in  their  pride  and  awe 

And  admiration  of  the  father,  saw 

A  being  so  exalted — even  more 

Like  adoration  was  the  love  they  bore 

The  gentle  mother. — Her  mild,  plaintive  face 

Was  purely  fair,  and  haloed  with  a  grace 

And  sweetness  luminous  when  joy  made  glad 

Her  features  with  a  smile;  or  saintly  sad 

As  twilight,  fell  the  sympathetic  gloom 

Of  any  childish  grief,  or  as  a  room 

Were  darkened  suddenly,  the  curtain  drawn 

Across  the  window  and  the  sunshine  gone. 

Her  brow,  below  her  fair  hair's  glimmering  strands, 

Seemed  meetest  resting-place  for  blessing  hands 

Or  holiest  touches  of  soft  finger-tips 

A'.id  little  rose-leaf  cheeks  and  dewy  lips. 

Though  heavy  household  tasks  were  pitiless, 
No  little  waist  or  coat  or  checkered  dress 
But  knew  her  needle's  deftness ;  and  no  skill 
Matched  hers  in  shaping  plait  or  flounce  or  frill ; 
Or  fashioning,  in  complicate  design, 
All  rich  embroideries  of  leaf  and  vine, 


515 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

With  tiniest  twining  tendril, — bud  and  bloom 
And  fruit,  so  like,  one's  fancy  caught  perfume 
And  dainty  touch  and  taste  of  them,  to  see 
Their  semblance  wrought  in  such  rare  verity. 

Shrined  in  her  sanctity  of  home  and  love, 

And  love's  fond  service  and  reward  thereof, 

Restore  her  thus,  O  blessed  Memory! — 

Throned  in  her  rocking-chair,  and  on  her  knee 

Her  sewing — her  work-basket  on  the  floor 

Beside  her, — Spring-time  through  the  open  door 

Balmily  stealing  in  and  all  about 

The  room;  the  bees'  dim  hum,  and  the  far  shout 

And    laughter    of    the    children    at    their    play, 

And  neighbor  children  from  across  the  way 

Calling  in  gleeful  challenge — save  alone 

One  boy  whose  voice  sends  back  no  answering  tone — 

The  boy,  prone  on  the  floor,  above  a  book 

Of  pictures,  with  a  rapt,  ecstatic  look — 

Even  as  the  mother's,  by  the  selfsame  spell, 

Is  lifted,  with  a  light  ineffable- 

As  though  her  senses  caught  no  mortal  cry. 

But  heard,  instead,  some  poem  going  by. 

The  Child-heart  is  so  strange  a  little  thing — 

So  mild — so  timorously  shy  and  small, — - 
When  grown-up  hearts  throb,  it  goes  scampering 
Behind  the  wall,  nor  dares  peer  out  at  all! — 
It  is  the  veriest  mouse 
That  hides  in  any  house — 
So  wild  a  little  thing  is  any  Child-heart. 

Child-heart ! — mild  h eart ! 
Ho,  my  little  wild  heart! 
Come  up  here  to  me  out  o'  the  dark, 
Or  let  me  come  to  you! 

516 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

So  lorn  at  times  the  Child-heart  needs  must  be, 

With  never  one  maturer  heart  for  friend 
And  comrade,  whose  tear-ripened  sympathy 
And  love  might  lend  it  comfort  to  the  end, — 
Whose  yearnings,  aches  and  stings, 
Over  poor  little  things 
Were  pitiful  as  ever  any  Child-heart. 

Child-heart !— -mild  heart! 

Ho,  my  little  wild  heart  t 

Come  up  here  to  me  out  o'  the  dark, 

Or  let  me  come  to  you  I 

Times,  too,  the  little  Child-heart  must  be  glad — 

Being  so  young,  nor  knowing,  as  we  know, 
The  fact  from  fantasy,  the  good  from  bad, 
The  joy  from  woe,  the — all  that  hurts  us  so! 
What  wonder  then  that  thus 
It  hides  away  from  us? — 
So  weak  a  little  thing  is  any  Child-heart! 

Child-heart!— mild  heart! 

Ho,  my  little  wild  heart! 

Come  up  here  to  me  out  o'  the  dark, 

Or  let  me  come  to  you! 

Nay,  little  Child-heart,  you  have  never  need 

To  fear  us; — we  are  weaker  far  than  you — 
'Tis  we  who  should  be  fearful — we  indeed 
Should  hide  us,  too,  as  darkly  as  you  do, — 
Safe,  as  yourself,  withdrawn, 
Hearing  the  World  roar  on 
Too  wilful,  woeful,  awful  for  the  Child-heart! 

Child-heart! — mild  heart! 
Ho,  my  little  wild  heart! 
Come  up  here  to  me  out  o'  the  dark, 
Or  let  me  come  to  you! 

The  clock  chats  on  confidingly ;  a  rose 
Taps  at  the  window,  as  the  sunlight  throws 
A  brilliant,  jostling  checkerwork  of  shine 
And  shadow,  like  a  Persian-loom  design, 

517 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Across  the  home-made  carpet — fades, — and  then 

The  dear  old  colors  are  themselves  again. 

Sounds  drop  in  visiting  from  everywhere — 

The  bluebird's  and  the  robin's  trill  are  there, 

Their  sweet  liquidity  diluted  some 

By  dewy  orchard-spaces  they  have  come : 

Sounds  of  the  town,  too,  and  the  great  highway — 

The  Mover-wagons'  rumble,  and  the  neigh 

Of  over-traveled  horses,  and  the  bleat 

Of  sheep  and  low  of  cattle  through  the  street — 

A  Nation's  thoroughfare  of  hopes  and  fears, 

First  blazed  by  the  heroic  pioneers 

Who  gave  up  old-home  idols  and  set  face 

Toward  the  unbroken  West,  to  found  a  race 

And  tame  a  wilderness  now  mightier  than 

All  peoples  and  all  tracts  American. 

Blent  with  all  outer  sounds,  the  sounds  within  : — 

In  mild  remoteness   falls  the  household  din 

Of  porch  and  kitchen:  the  dull  jar  and  thump 

Of  churning;  and  the  "glung-glung"  of  the  pump, 

With  sudden  pad  and  scurry  of  bare  feet 

Of  little  outlaws,  in  from  field  or  street: 

The  clang  of  kettle, — rasp  of  damper-ring 

And  bang  of  cook-stove  door — and  everything 

That  jingles  in  a  busy  kitchen  lifts 

Its  individual  wrangling  voice  and  drifts 

In  sweetest  tinny,  coppery,  pewtery  tone 

Of  music  hungry  ear  has  ever  known 

In  wildest  famished  yearning  and  conceit 

Of  youth,  to  just  cut  loose  and  eat  and  eat! — 

The  zest  of  hunger  still  incited  on 

To  childish  desperation  by  long-drawn 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Breaths  of  hot,  steaming,  wholesome  things  that  stew 

And  blubber,  and  up-tilt  the  pot-lids,  too. 

Filling  the  sense  with  zestful  rumors  of 

The  dear  old-fashioned  dinners  children  love : 

Redolent  savorings  of  home-cured  meats, 

Potatoes,  beans  and  cabbage ;  turnips,  beets 

And  parsnips — rarest  composite  entire 

That  ever  pushed  a  mortal  child's  desire 

To  madness  by  new-grated  fresh,  keen,  sharp 

Horseradish — tang  that  sets  the  lips  awarp 

And  watery,  anticipating  all 

The  cloyed  sweets  of  the  glorious  festival. — 

Still  add  the  cinnamony,  spicy  scents 

Of  clove,  nutmeg,  and  myriad  condiments 

In  like-alluring  whiffs  that  prophesy 

Of  sweltering  pudding,  cake  and  custard-pie — 

The  swooning-sweet  aroma  haunting  all 

The  house — up-stairs  and  down — porch,  parlor,  hall 

And  sitting-room — invading  even  where 

The  Hired  Man  sniffs  it  in  the  orchard-air, 

And  pauses  in  his  pruning  of  the  trees 

To  note  the  sun  minutely  and  to — sneeze. 

Then  Cousin  Rufus  comes — the  children  hear 
His  hale  voice  in  the  old  hall,  ringing  clear 
As  any  bell.    Always  he  came  with  song 
Upon  his  lips  and  all  the  happy  throng 
Of  echoes  following  him,  even  as  the  crowd 
Of  his  admiring  little  kinsmen — proud 
To  have  a  cousin  grown — and  yet  as  young 
Of  soul  and  cheery  as  the  songs  he  sung. 


519 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

He  was  a  student  of  the  law — intent 

Soundly  to  win  success,  with  all  it  meant; 

And  so  he  studied — even  as  he  played, — 

With  all  his  heart :   And  so  it  was  he  made 

His  gallant  fight  for  fortune — through  all  stress 

Of  battle  bearing  him  with  cheeriness 

And  wholesome  valor. 

And  the  children  had 
Another  relative  who  kept  them  glad 
And  joyous  by  his  very  merry  ways — 
As  blithe  and  sunny  as  the  summer  days, — 
Their  father's  youngest  brother — Uncle  Mart. 
The  old  "Arabian  Nights"  he  knew  by  heart — 
"Baron  Munchausen,"  too ;  and  likewise  "The 
Swiss  Family  Robinson." — And  when  these  three 
Gave  out,  as  he  rehearsed  them,  he  could  go 
Straight  on  in  the  same  line — a  steady  flow 
Of  arabesque  invention  that  his  good 
Old  mother  never  clearly  understood. 
He  was  to  be  a  printer — wanted,  though, 
To  be  an  actor. — But  the  world  was  "show" 
Enough  for  him, — theatric,  airy,  gay, — 
Each  day  to  him  was  jolly  as  a  play. 
And  some  poetic  symptoms,  too,  in  sooth, 
Were  certain. — And,  from  his  apprentice  youth, 
He  joyed  in  verse-quotations — which  he  took 
Out  of  the  old  "Type  Foundry  Specimen  Book." 
He  craved  and  courted  most  the  favor  of 
The  children. — They  were  foremost  in  his  love ; 
And  pleasing  them,  he  pleased  his  own  boy-heart 
A.nd  kept  it  young  and  fresh  in  every  part. 

520 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

So  was  it  he  devised  for  them  and  wrought 
To  life  his  quaintest,  most  romantic  thought: — 
Like  some  lone  castaway  in  alien  seas, 
He  built  a  house  up  in  the  apple  trees, 
Out  in  the  corner  of  the  garden,  where 
No  man-devouring  native,  prowling  there, 
Might  pounce  upon  them  in  the  dead  o'  night— 
For  lo,  their  little  ladder,  slim  and  light, 
They  drew  up  after  them.    And  it  was  known 
That  Uncle  Mart  slipped  up  sometimes  alone 
And  drew  the  ladder  in,  to  lie  and  moon 
Over  some  novel  all  the  afternoon. 
And  one  time  Johnty,  from  the  crowd  below, — 
Outraged  to  find  themselves  deserted  so — 
Threw  bodily  their  old  black  cat  up  in 
The  airy  fastness,  with  much  yowl  and  din 
Resulting,  while  a  wild  periphery 
Of  cat  went  circling  to  another  tree, 
And,  in  impassioned  outburst,  Uncle  Mart 
Loomed  up,  and  thus  relieved  his  tragic  heart: 

•  ;<]  ''-h  ?.&  ,?83leod  biLG  sHv/  ,ho8£.'dlq  arh  oT 
"'Hence,  long-tailed,  ebon-eyed,  nocturnal  ranger! 

What  led  thee  hither  'mongst  the  types  and  cases? 

Didst  thou  not  know  that  running  midnight  races 
O'er  standing  types  was  fraught  with  imminent  danger? 
Did  hunger  lead  thce — didst  thou  think  to  find 

Some  rich  old  cheese  to  fill  thy  hungry  maw? 

Vain  hope!  for  none  but  literary  jaw 
Can  masticate  our  cookery  for  the  mind!'" 

,.'>ff  pt.U^uo^.o  >J>«aLri%  9.lp>rit  si  J^f  JA 
So  likewise  when,  with  lordly  air  and  grace, 
He  strode  to  dinner,  with  a  tragic  face 

521 


THE  HOOSIER   BOOK 

With  ink-spots  on  it  from  the  office,  he 
Would  aptly  quote  more  "Specimen-poetry — " 
Perchance  like  "Labor's  bread  is  sweet  to  eat, 
(Ahem!)  And  toothsome  is  the  toiler's  meat.'" 

Ah,  could  you  see  them  all,  at  lull  of  noon  !— 
A  sort  of  boisterous  lull,  with  clink  of  spoon 
And  clatter  of  deflecting  knife,  and  plate 
Dropped  saggingly,  with  its  all-bounteous  weight, 
And  dragged  in  place  voraciously;  and  then 
Pent  exclamations,  and  the  lull  again. — 
The  garland  of  glad  faces  round  the  board- 
Each  member  of  the  family  restored 
To  his  or  her  place,  with  an  extra  chair 
Or  two  for  the  chance  guests  so  often  there. — 

The  father's  farmer-client  brought  home  from 

The  court  room,  though  he  "didn't  want  to   come 

Tel  he  jist  saw  he  hat  to!"  he'd  explain, 

Invariably,  time  and  time  again, 

To  the  pleased  wife  and  hostess,  as  she  pressed 

Another  cup  of  coffee  on  the  guest. — 

Or  there  was  Johnty's  special  chum,  perchance, 

Or  Bud's,  or  both — each  childish  countenance 

Lit  with  a  higher  glow  of  youthful  glee, 

To  be  together  thus  unbrokenly, — 

Jim  Offut,  or  Eck  Skinner,  or  George  Carr — 

The  very  nearest  chums  of  Bud's  these  are, — 

So,  very  probably,  one  of  the  three, 

At  least,  is  there  with  Bud,  or  ought  to  be. 

Like  interchange  the  town-boys  each  had  known — 

His  playmate's  dinner  better  than  his  own— 

522 


THE  HOOSIER   BOOK 

Yet  blest  that  he  was  ever  made  to  stay 

At  Almon  Keefer's,  any  blessed  day. 

For  any  meal !    .    .    .    Visions  of  biscuits,  hot 

And  flaky-perfect,  with  the  golden  blot 

Of  molten  butter  for  the  center,  clear, 

Through  pools  of  clover-honey — dear-o-dear!— 

With  creamy  milk  for  its  divine  "farewell" : 

And  then,  if  any  one  delectable 

Might  yet  exceed  in  sweetness,  O  restore 

The  cherry-cobbler  of  the  days  of  yore 

Made  only  by  Al  Reefer's  mother ! — Why, 

The  very  thought  of  it  ignites  the  eye 

Of  memory  with  rapture — cloys  the  lip 

Of  longing,  till  it  seems  to  ooze  and  drip 

With  veriest  juice  and  stain  and  over  waste 

Of  that  most  sweet  delirium  of  taste 

That  ever  visited  the  childish  tongue, 

Or  proved,  as  now,  the  sweetest  thing  unsung. 

Ah,  Almon  Keef  er !  what  a  boy  you  were, 

With  your  back-tilted  hat  and  careless  hair, 

And  open,  honest,  fresh,  fair  face  and  eyes 

With  their  all-varying  looks  of  pleased  surprise 

And  joyous  interest  in  flower  and  tree, 

And  poising  humming-bird,  and  maundering  bee. 

The  fields  and  woods  he  knew;  the  tireless  tramp 
With  gun  and  dog ;  and  the  night-fisher's  camp — 
No  other  boy,  save  Bee  Lineback,  had  won 
Such  brilliant  mastery  of  rod  and  gun. 
Even  in  his  earliest  childhood  had  he  shown 
These  traits  that  marked  him  as  his  father's  own. 


523 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Dogs  all  paid  Almon  honor  and  bow-wowed 
Allegiance,  let  him  come  in  any  crowd 
Of  rabbit-hunting  town-boys,  even  though 
His  own  clog  "Sleuth"  rebuked  their  acting  so 
With  jealous  snarls  and  growlings. 

But  the  best 

Of  Almon's  virtues — leading  all  the  rest — 
Was  his  great  love  of  books,  and  skill  as  well 
In  reading  them  aloud,  and  by  the  spell 
Thereof  enthralling  his  mute  listeners,  as 
They  grouped  about  him  in  the  orchard-grass, 
Hinging  their  bare  shins  in  the  mottled  shine 
And  shade,  as  they  lay  prone,  or  stretched  supine 
Beneath  their  favorite  tree,  with  dreamy  eyes 
And  Argo-fancies  voyaging  the  skies. 
"Tales  of  the  Ocean"  was  the  name  of  one 
Old  dog's-eared  book  that  was  surpassed  by  none 
Of  all  the  glorious  list. — Its  back  was  gone, 
But  its  vitality  went  bravely  on 
In  such  delicious  tales  of  land  and  sea 
As  may  not  ever  perish  utterly. 
Of  still  more  dubious  caste,  "Jack  Sheppard"  drew 
Full  admiration;  and  "Dick  Turpin,"  too. 
And,  painful  as  the  fact  is  to  convey, 
In  certain  lurid  tales  of  their  own  day, 
These  boys  found  thieving  heroes  and  outlaws 
They  hailed  v/ith  equal  fervor  of  applause ; 
"The  League  of  the  Miami" — why,  the  name 
Alone  was  fascinating — is  the  same, 
In  memory,  this  venerable  hour 
Of  moral  wisdom  shorn  of  all  its  power, 


524 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

As  it  tmblushingly  reverts  to  when 

The  old  barn  was  "the  Cave,"  and  hears  again 

The  signal  blown,  outside  the  buggy-shed — 

The  drowsy  guard  within  uplifts  his  head, 

And  "'Who  goes  there?'3'  is  called,  in  bated  breath— 

The  challenge  answered  in  a  hush  of  death,— 

"Sh!— 'Barney  Gray!'"    And  then  "'What  do  you  seek?'" 

"  'Stables  of  the  League!'"  the  voice  comes  spent  and  weak. 

For,  ha!  the  Law  is  on  the  "Chieftain's"  trail — 

Tracked  to  his  very  lair!— Well,  what  avail? 

The  "secret  entrance"  opens — closes. — So 

The  "Robber-Captain"  thus  outwits  his  foe; 

And,  safe  once  more  within  his  "cavern-halls," 

He  shakes  his  clenched  fist  at  the  warped  plank-walls 

And  mutters  his  defiance  through  the  cracks 

At  the  balked  Enemy's  retreating  backs 

As  the  loud  horde  flees  pell-mell  do\vn  the  lane, 

And — Almon  Kecfer  is  himself  again! 

Excepting  few,  they  were  not  books  indeed 
Of  deep  import  that  Almon  chose  to  read; — 
Less  fact  than  fiction. — Much  he  favored  those — 
If  not  in  poetry,  in  hectic  prose — 
That  made  our  native  Indian  a  wild, 
Feathered  and  fine-preened  hero  that  a  child 
Could  recommend  as  just  about  the  thing 
To  make  a  god  of,  or  at  least  a  king. 
Aside  from  Almon's  own  books — two  or  three — • 
His  store  of  lore  The  Township  Library 
Supplied  him  weekly:    All  the  books  with  "or"s 
Sub-titled — lured  him — after  "Indian  Wars," 
And  "Life  of  Daniel  Boone," — not  to  include 
Some  few  books  spiced  with  humor, — "Robin  Hood" 
525 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  rare  "Don  Quixote."— And  one  time  he  took 
"Dadd's  Cattle  Doctor."    .   .    .    How  he  hugged  the  book 
And  hurried  homeward,  with  internal  glee 
And  humorous  spasms  of  expectancy! — 
All  this  confession — as  he  promptly  made 
It,  the  day  later,  writhing  in  the  shade 
Of  the  old  apple  tree  with  Johnty  and 
Bud,  Noey  Bixler,  and  The  Hired  Hand- 
Was  quite  as  funny  as  the  book  was  not.    .    .    . 
O  Wonderland  of  wayward  Childhood!  what 
An  easy,  breezy  realm  of  summer  calm 
And  dreamy  gleam  and  gloom  and  bloom  and  balm 
Thou  art! — The  Lotus-Land  the  poet  sung, 
It  is  the  Child-World  while  the  heart  beats  young.    .    .   . 

While  the  heart  beats  young! — O  the  splendor  of  the  Spring, 

With  all  her  dewy  jewels  on,  is  not  so  fair  a  thing! 

The  fairest,  rarest  morning  of  the  blossom-time  of  May 

Is  not  so  sweet  a  season  as  the  season  of  to-day 

While  Youth's  diviner  climate  folds  and  holds  us,  close  caressed, 

As  we  feel  our  mothers  with  us  by  the  touch  of  face  and  breast; — 

Our  bare  feet  in  the  meadows,  and  our  fancies  up  among 

The  airy  clouds  of  morning — while  the  heart  beats  young. 

While  the  heart  beats  young  and  our  pulses  leap  and  dance, 

With  every  day  a  holiday  and  life  a  glad  romance. 

We  hear  the  birds  with  wonder,  and  with  wonder  watch  their  flight — 

Standing  still  the  more  enchanted,  both  of  hearing  and  of  sight, 

When  they  have  vanished  wholly, — for,  in  fancy,  wing-to-wing 

We  fly  to  Heaven  with  them;  and,  returning,  still  we  sing 

The  praises  of  this  lower  Heaven  with  tireless  voice  and  tongue, 

Even  as  the  Master  sanctions — while  the  heart  beats  young. 

While  the  heart  beats  young! — While  the  heart  beats  young! 

O  green  and  gold  old  Earth  of  ours,  with  azure  overhung 

And  looped  with  rainbows! — grant  us  yet  this  grassy  lap  of  thine — 

We  would  be  still  thy  children,  through  the  shower  and  the  shine! 


526 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

So  pray  we,  lisping,  whispering,  in  childish  love  and  trust, 
With  our  beseeching  hands  and  faces  lifted  from  the  dust 
By  fervor  of  the  poem,  all  unwritten  and  unsung, 
Thou  givest  us  in  answer,  while  the  heart  beats  young. 

Another  hero  of  those  youthful  years 
Returns,  as  Noey  Bixler's  name  appears. 
And  Noey — if  in  any  special  way — 
Was  notably  good-natured. — Work  or  play 
He  entered  into  with  selfsame  delight — 
A  wholesome  interest  that  made  him  quite 
As  many  friends  among  the  old  as  young, — 
So  everywhere  were  Noey's  praises  sung. 

And  he  was  awkward,  fat  and  overgrown, 

With  a  round  full-moon  face,  that  fairly  shone 

As  though  to  meet  the  simile's  demand. 

And,  cumbrous  though  he  seemed,  both  eye  and  hand 

Were  dowered  with  the  discernment  and  deft  skill 

Of  the  true  artisan :     He  shaped  at  will, 

In  his  old  father's  shop,  on  rainy  days, 

Little  toy-wagons,  and  curved-runner  sleighs; 

The  trimmest  bows  and  arrows — fashioned,  too, 

Of  "seasoned  timber,"  such  as  Noey  knew 

How  to  select,  prepare,  and  then  complete, 

And  call  his  little  friends  in  from  the  street. 

"The  very  best  bow,"  Noey  used  to  say, 

"Hain't  made  o'  ash  ner  hick'ry  thataway! — 

But  you  git  mulberry — the  bearin'-tree, 

Now  mind  ye !  and  you  fetch  the  piece  to  me, 

And  lemme  git  it  seasoned;  then,  i  gum ! 

I'll  make  a  bow  'at  you  kin  brag  on  some! 


527 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Er — ef  you  can't  git  mulberry, — you  bring 

Me  a'  old  locus'  hitch-post,  and  i  jing! 

I'll  make  a  bow  o'  that  'at  common  bows 

Won't  dast  to  pick  on  ner  turn  up  their  nose!" 

And  Noey  knew  the  woods,  and  all  the  trees, 

And  thickets,  plants  and  myriad  mysteries 

Of  swamp  and  bottom-land.    And  he  knew  where 

The  ground-hog  hid,  and  why  located  there. — 

He  knew  all  animals  that  burrowed,  swam, 

Or  lived  in  tree-tops :   And,  by  race  and  dam, 

He  knew  the  choicest,  safest  deeps  wherein 

Fish-traps  might  flourish  nor  provoke  the  sin 

Of  theft  in  some  chance  peeking,  prying  sneak, 

Or  town-boy,  prowling  up  and  down  the  creek. 

All  four-pawed  creatures  tamable — he  knew 

Their  outer  and  their  inner  natures  too; 

While  they,  in  turn,  were  drawn  to  him  as  by 

Some  subtle  recognition  of  a  tie 

Of  love,  as  true  as  truth  from  end  to  end, 

Between  themselves  and  this  strange  human   friend. 

The  same  with  birds — he  knew  them  every  one, 

And  he  could  "name  them,  too,  without  a  gun." 

No  wonder  Johnty  loved  him,  even  to 

The  verge  of  worship.— Noey  led  him  through 

The  art  of  trapping  redbirds — yes,  and  taught 

Him  how  to  keep  them  when  he  had  them  caught — 

What  food  they  needed,  and  just  where  to  swing 

The  cage,  if  he  expected  them  to  sing. 

And  Bud  loved  Noey,  for  the  little  pair 
Of  stilts  he  made  him ;  or  the  stout  old  hair 
Trunk  Noey  put  on  wheels,  and  laid  a  track 
Of  scantling-railroad  for  it  in  the  back 
528 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Part  of  the  barn-lot ;  or  the  cross-bow,  made 
Just  like  a  gun,  which  deadly  weapon  laid 
Against  his  shoulder  as  he  aimed,  and — "Sping! 
He'd  hear  the  rusty  old  nail  zoon  and  sing — 
And  zip!  your  Mr.  Bluejaj^'s  wing  would  drop 
A  farewell-feather  from  the  old  tree-top! 

And  Maymie  loved  him,  for  the  very  small 
But  perfect  carriage  for  her  favorite  doll — 
A  lady's  carriage — not  a  baby-cab, — 
But  oil-cloth  top,  and  two  seats,  lined  with  drab 
And  trimmed  with  white  lace-paper  from  a  case 
Of  shaving-soap  his  uncle  bought  some  place 
At  auction  once. 

And  Alex  loved  him  yei 

The  best,  when  Noey  brought  him,  for  a  pet, 
A  little  flying-squirrel,  with  great  eyes — 
Big  as  a  child's :  And,  childlike  otherwise, 
It  was  at  first  a  timid,  tremulous,  coy, 
Retiring  little  thing  that  dodged  the  boy 
And  tried  to  keep  in  Noey's  pocket ; — till, 
In  time,  responsive  to  his  patient  will, 
It  became  wholly  docile,  and  content 
With  its  new  master,  as  he  came  and  went, — 
The  squirrel  clinging  flatly  to  his  breast, 
Or  sometimes  scampering  its  craziest 
Around  his  body  spirally,  and  then 
Down  to  his  very  heels  and  up  again. 

And  Little  Lizzie  loved  him,  as  a  bee 

Loves  a  great  ripe  red  apple — utterly. 

For  Noey's   ruddy  morning-face  she  drew 

The  window-blind,  and  tapped  the  window,  too; 

529 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Afar  she  hailed  his  coming,  as  she  heard 

His  tuneless  whistling — sweet  as  any  bird 

It  seemed  to  her,  the  one  lame  bar  or  so 

Of  old  "Wait  for  the  Wagon" — hoarse  and  low 

The  sound  was, — so  that,  all  about  the  place, 

Folks  joked  and  said  that  Noey  "whistled  bass" — 

The  light  remark  originally  made 

By  Cousin  Rufus,  who  knew  notes,  and  played 

The  flute  with  nimble  skill,  and  taste  as  well, 

And,  critical  as  he  was  musical, 

Regarded  Noey's  constant  whistling  thus 

"Phenominally   unmelodious." 

Likewise  when  Uncle  Mart,  who  shared  the  love 

Of  jest  with  Cousin  Rufus  hand-in-glove, 

Said  "Noey  couldn't  whistle  'Bonny  Doon' 

Even !  and,  he'd  bet,  couldn't  carry  a  tune 

If  it  had  handles  to  it!" 

— But  forgive 

The  deviations  here  so  fugitive, 
And  turn  again  to  Little  Lizzie,  whose 
High  estimate  of  Noey  we  shall  choose 
Above  all  others. — And  to  her  he  was 
Particularly  lovable  because 
He  laid  the  woodland's  harvest  at  her  feet. — 
He  brought  her  wild  strawberries,  honey-sweet 
And  dewy-cool,  in  mats  of  greenest  moss 
And  leaves,  all  woven  over  and  across 
With  tender,  biting  "tongue-grass,"  and  "sheep-sour," 
And  twin-leaved  beech-mast,  pranked  with  bud  and  flower 
Of  every  gipsy-blossom  of  the  wild, 
Dark,  tangled  forest,  dear  to  any  child. — 

530 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

All  these  in  season.     Nor  could  barren,  drear, 
White  and  stark-featured  Winter  interfere 
With  Noey's  rare  resources :    Still  the  same 
He  blithely  whistled  through  the  snow  and  came 
Beneath  the  window  with  a  Fairy  sled ; 
And  Little  Lizzie,  bundled  heels-and-head, 
He  took  on  such  excursions  of  delight 
As  even  "Old  Santy"  with  his  reindeer  might 
Have  envied  her !    And,  later,  when  the  snow 
Was  softening  toward  Spring-time  and  the  glow 
Of  steady  sunshine  smote  upon  it, — then 
Came  the  magician  Noey  yet  again — 
While  all  the  children  were  away  a  day 
Or  two  at  Grandma's  ! — and  behold  when  they 
Got  home  once  more ; — there,  towering  taller  than 
The  doorway — stood  a  mighty,  old  Snow-Man ! 

A  thing  of  peerless  art — a  masterpiece 

Doubtless  unmatched  by  even  classic  Greece 

In  heyday  of   Praxiteles. — Alone 

It  loomed  in  lordly  grandeur  all  its  own. 

And  steadfast,  too,  for  weeks  and  weeks  it  stood, 

The  admiration  of  the  neighborhood 

As  well  as  of  the  children  Noey  sought 

Only  to  honor  in  the  work  he  wrought. 

The  traveler  paid  it  tribute,  as  he  passed 

Along  the  highway — paused  and,  turning,  cast 

A  lingering,  last  look — as  though  to  take 

A  vivid  print  of  it,  for  memory's  sake, 

To  lighten  all  the  empty,  aching  miles 

Beyond  with  brighter  fancies,  hopes  and  smiles. 


531 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Hie  cynic  put  aside  his  biting  wit 
And  tacitly  declared  in  praise  of  it ; 
And  even  the  apprentice-poet  of  the  town 
Rose  to  impassioned  heights,  and  then  sat  down 
And  penned  a  panegyric  scroll  of  rhyme 
That  made  the  Snow-Man  famous  for  all  time. 

And  though,  as  now,  the  ever  warmer  sun 

Of  summer  had  so  melted  and  undone 

The  perishable  figure  that — alas  ! — 

Not  even  in  dwindled  white  against  the  grass 

Was  left  its  latest  and  minutest  ghost, 

The  children  yet — materially,  almost — 

Beheld  it — circled  round  it  hand-in-hand — 

(Or  rather  round  the  place  it  used  to  stand)  — 

With  "Ring-a-round-a-rosy  i     Bottle  full 

O'  posey !"  and,  with  shriek  and  laugh,  would  pull 

From  seeming  contact  with  it — just  as  when 

It  was  the  real-est  of  old  Snow-Men. 

Even  in  such  a  scene  of  senseless  play 
The  children  were  surprised  one  summer  day 
By  a  strange  man  who  called  across  the  fence, 
Inquiring  for  their  father's  residence ; 
And,  being  answered  that  this  was  the  place, 
Opened  the  gate,  and,  with  a  radiant  face, 
Came  in  and  sat  down  with  them  in  the  shade. 
And  waited — till  the  absent  father  made 
His  noon  appearance,  with  a  warmth  and  zest 
That  told  he  had  no  ordinary  guest 
In  this  man  whose  low-spoken  name  he  knew 
At  once,  demurring  as  the  stranger  drew 

532 


THE   1IOOS1KR   BOOK 

A  stuffy  note-book  out,  and  turned  and  set 

A  big  fat  finger  on  a  page,  and  let 

The  writing  thereon  testify  instead 

Of  further  speech.    And  as  the  father  read 

All  silently,  the  curious  children  took 

Exacting  inventory  both  of  book 

And  man : — He  wore  a  long-napped  white  fur  hat 

Pulled  firmly  on  his  head,  and  under  that 

Rather  long  silvery  hair,  or  iron-gray — 

For  he  was  not  an  old  man, — anyway, 

Not  beyond  sixty.    And  he  wore  a  pair 

Of  square-framed  spectacles — or  rather  there 

Were  two  more  than  a  pair, — the  extra  two 

Flared  at  the  corners,  at  the  e)res'  side-view, 

'2    fi/\. 

In  as  redundant  vision  as  the  eyes 

Of  grasshoppers  or  bees  or  dragon-flies. 

Later  the  children  heard  the  father  say 

He  was  "A  Noted  Traveler,"  and  would  stay 

Some  days  with  them — In  which  time  host  and  guest 

Discussed,   alone,   in   deepest  interest, 

Some  vague,  mysterious  matter  that  defied 

The  wistful  children,  loitering  outside 

The  spare-room  door.     There  Bud  acquired  a  quite 

New  list  of  big  words — such  as  "Disunite," 

And  "Shibboleth,"  and  "Aristocracy," 

And  "Juggernaut,"  and   "Squatter   Sovereignty," 

And  "Anti-slavery,"  "Emancipate," 

"Irrepressible  Conflict,"  and  "The  Great 

Battle  of  Armageddon" — obviously 

A  pamphlet  brought  from  Washington,  D.  C, 

And  spread  among  such  friends  as  might  occur 

Of  like  views  with  "The  Noted  Traveler." 

533 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


253     Maymie's  Story  of  Red  Riding- 
Hood 

W'Y,  one  time  wuz  a  little-weenty  dirl, 
An*  she  wuz  named  Red  Riding-Hood,  'cause  her 
Her  Ma  she  maked  a  little  red  cloak  fer  her 
'At  turnt  up  over  her  head — An'  it  'uz  all 
1st  one  piece  o'  red  cardinal  'at's  like 
The   drate-long   stockin's   the   store-keepers   has. — 
Oh !  it  'uz  purtiest  cloak  in  all  the  world 
An'  all  this  town  er  anywheres  they  is ! 
An'  so,  one  day,  her  Ma  she  put  it  on 
Red  Riding-Hood,  she  did — one  day,  she  did — 
An'  it  'uz  Sund'y — 'cause  the  little  cloak 
It  'uz  too  nice  to  wear  ist  ever'  day 
An*  all  the  time ! — An*  so  her  Ma,  she  put 
It  on  Red  Riding-Hood — an'  telled  her  not 
To  dit  no  dirt  on  it  ner  dit  it  mussed 
Ner  nothin'!  An' — an' — nen  her  Ma  she  dot 
Her  little  basket  out,  'at  Old  Kriss  bringed 
Her  wunst — one  time,  he  did.     And  nen  she  fill' 
It  full  o'  whole  lots  an'  'bundance  o'  dood  things  t'  ca< 
(Allus  my  Dran'ma  she  says  "'bundance,"  too.) 
An'  so  her  Ma  fill'  little  Red  Riding-Hood's 
Nice  basket  all  ist  full  o'  dood  things  t'  eat, 
An'  tell  her  take  'em  to  her  old  Dran'ma — 
An'  not  to  spill  'em,  neever — 'cause  ef  she 
'Ud  stump  her  toe  an'  spill  'em,  her  Dran'ma 
She'll  haf  to  punish  her! 


534 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An'  nen — An'  so 

Little  Red  Riding-Hood  she  p'omised  she 
'Ud  be  all  careful  nen  an'  cross'  her  heart 
'At  she  won't  run  an'  spill  'em  all  fer  six — 
Five — ten — two-hundred-bushel-dollars-gold ! 
An'  nen  she  kiss  her  Ma  doo'-by  an'  went 
A-skippin'  off — away  fur  off  frough  the 
Big  woods,  where  her  Dran'ma  she  live  at — No  !— 
She  didn't  do  a-skippin',  like   I   said: — 
She  1st  went  walkin' — careful-like  an'  slow — 
1st  like  a  little  lady— walkin'  'long 
As  all  polite  an'  nice — an'  slow — an'  straight — 
An*  turn  her  toes — ist  like  she's  marchin'  in 
The  Sund'y-School  k-session ! 

An' — an' — so 

She  'uz  a-doin'  along — an'  doin*  along — 
On  frough  the  drate-big  woods — 'cause  her  Dran'ma 
She  live  'way,  'way  fur  off  frough  the  big  woods 
From  her  Ma's  house.  So  when  Red  Riding-Hood 
Dit  to  do  there,  she  allus  have  most  fun — 
When  she  do  frough  the  drate-big  woods,  you  know 
'Cause  she  ain't  f  card  a  bit  o'  anything ! 
An'  so  she  sees  the  little  hoppty-birds 
'At's  in  the  trees,  an'  flyin'  all  around, 
An'  singin'  dlad  as  ef  their  parunts  said 
They'll  take  'em  to  the  magic-lantern  show! 
An*  she  'ud  pull  the  purty  flowers  an'  things 
A-growin'  round  the  stumps — An'  she  'ud  ketch 
The  purty  butterflies,  an'  drasshoppers, 
An*  stick  pins  frough  'em — No ! — I  ist  said  that ! — 
'Cause  she's  too  dood  an'  kind  an'  'bedient 

535 


THE  HOOSIER   BOOK 

To  hurt  things  thataway. — She'd  ketch  'em,  though, 

An'  ist  play  wiv  'em  ist  a  little  while, 

An'  nen  she'd  let  'em  fly  away,  she  would, 

An'  ist  skip  on  ad'in  to  her  Dran'mas. 

An'  so,  while  she  'uz  doin'  'long  an'  'long, 

First  thing  you  know  they  'uz  a  drate-big  old 

Mean  wicked  Wolf  jumped  out  'at  wanted  t*  eat 

Her  up,  but  dassent  to — 'cause  wite  clos't  there 

They  wuz  a  Man  a-choppin'  wood,  an*  you 

Could  hear  him. — So  the  old  Wolf  he  'uz  fcard 

Only  to  ist  be  kind  to  her. — So  he 

Ist  'tended-like  he  wuz  dood  friends  to  her 

An'  says  "Dood  morning,  little  Red  Riding-Hood  1"— 

All  ist  as  kind ! 

An*  nen  Riding-Hood 

She  say  "Dood  morning,"  too,— all  kind  an'  nice— 
Ist  like  her  Ma  she  learn'— No !— mustn't  say 
"Learn,"  'cause  "Learn"  it's  unproper.— So  she  say 
It  like  her  Ma  she  {<teachcd"  her. — An' — so  she 
Ist  says  "Dood  morning"  to  the  Wolf— 'cause  she 
Don't  know  ut-tall  'at  he':  -*,  wicked  Wolf 
An'  want  to  eat  her  up! 

An'  nen  old  Wolf  smile 

An'. say,  so  kind:  "Where  air  you  doin'  at?" 
Nen  little  Red  Riding-Hood  she  say:    "I'm  doin' 
To  my  Dran'ma's,  'cause  my  Ma  say  I  might." 
Nen,  when  she  tell  him  that,  the  old  Wolf  he 
Ist  turn  an'  light  out  f rough  the  big  thick  woods, 
Where  she  can't  see  him  any  more.     An'  so 
She  think  he's  went  to  his  house— but  he  hain't,— 
He's  went  to  her  Dran'ma's,  to  be  there  first — 

536 


THE   HOOSIER  BOOK 

An'  ketch  her,  ef  she  don't  watch  mighty  sharp 
What  she's  about! 

An'  nen  when  the  old  Wolf 
Dit  to  her  Dran'ma's  house,  he's  purty  smart, — 
An'  so  he  'tend-like  he's  Red  Riding-Hood, 
An'  knock  at  th'  door.    An'  Riding-Hood's  Dran'ma 
She's  sick  in  bed  an'  can't  come  to  the  door 
An'  open  it.    So  th'  old  Wolf  knock'  two  times. 
An'  nen  Red  Riding-Hood's  Dran'ma  she  says, 
"Who's  there  ?"  she  says.    An'  old  Wolf  'tends-like  he'£ 
Little  Red  Riding-Hood,  you  know,  an'  make' 
His  voice  soun'  ist  like  hers,  an'  says:  "It's  me, 
Dran'ma— an'  I'm  Red  Riding-Hood  an'  I'm 
Ist  come  to  see  you." 

Nen  her  old  Dran'ma 
She  think  it  is  little  Red  Riding-Hood, 
An'  so  she  say:  "Well,  come  in  nen  an'  make 
You'se'f  at  home,"  she  says,  "  'cause  I'm  down  sick 
In  bed,  and  got  the  'ralgia,  so's  I  can't 
Dit  up  an'  let  ye  in." 

An'  so  th'  old  Wolf 
Ist  march'  in  nen  an'  shet  the  door  ad'in, 
An*  drowl,  he  did,  an'  splunge  up  on  the  bed 
An'  et  up  old  Miz  Riding-Hood  'fore  she 
Could  put  her  specs  on  an'  see  who  it  wuz. — 
An*  so  she  never  knowed  who  et  her  up! 
An'  nen  the  wicked  Wolf  he  ist  put  on 
Her  nightcap,  an'  all  covered  up  in  bed — 
Like  he  wuz  her,  you  know. 

Nen,  purty  soon 

Here  come  along  little  Red  Riding-Hood, 
An*  she  knock*  at  the  door.    An'  old  Wolf  'tend- 

137 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Like  he's  her  Dran'ma ;  an'  he  say,  "Who's  there?" 
1st  like  her  Dran'ma  say,  you  know.     An'  so 
Little  Red  Riding-Hood  she  say :   "It's  me, 
Dran'ma— an'  I'm  Red  Riding-Hood  and  I'm 
1st  come  to  see  you." 

An'  nen  old  Wolf  nen 

He  cough  an'  say:     "Well,  come  in  nen  an'  make 
You'se'f  at  home,"  he  says,  "  'cause  I'm  down  sick 
In  bed,  an'  got  the  'ralgia,  so's  I  can't 
Dit  up  an'  let  ye  in." 

An'  so  she  _  think 

It's  her  Dran'ma  a-talkin'.— So  she  ist 
Open'  the  door  an'  come  in,  an'  set  down 
Her  basket,  an'  taked  off  her  things,  an'  bringed 
A  chair  an'  clumbed  up  on  the  bed,  wite  by 
The  old  big  Wolf  she  thinks  is  her  Dran'ma— 
Only  she  thinks  the  old  Wolf's  dot  whole  lots 
More  bigger  ears,  an'  lots  more  whiskers,  too, 
Than  her  Dran'ma ;  an'  so  Red  Riding-Hood 
She's  kind  o'  skeered  a  little.    So  she  says 
"Oh,  Dran'ma,  what  big  eyes  you  dot!"     An'  nen 
The  old  WTolf  says :  "They're  ist  big  thataway 
'Cause  I'm  so  dlad  to  see  you!" 

Nen  she  says, — 

"Oh,  Dran'ma,  what  a  drate-big  nose  you  dot !" 
Nen  th'  old  Wolf  says :  "It's  ist  big  thataway 
Ist  'cause  I  smell  the  dood  things  'at  you  bringed 
Me  in  the  basket !" 

An'  nen  Riding-Hood 

She  says,  "Oh-me-oh-wry /  Dran'ma!  what  big 
White  long  sharp  teeth  you  dot!" 


538 


THE  HOOSIER   BOOK 

Nen  old  Wolf  says : 

"Yes — an'  they're  thataway," — an'  drowled — 
"They're  thataway,"  he  says,  "to  cat  you  wiv !" 
An'  nen  he  ist  jump  at  her. — 

But  she  scream' — 

An'  scream',  she  did. — So's  'at  the  Man 
'At  wuz  a-choppin'  wood,  you  know, — he  hear, 
An'  come  a-runnin'  in  there  wiv  his  ax ; 
An',  'fore  the  old  Wolf  know'  what  he's  about, 
He  split  his  old  brains  out  an'  killed  him  s'  quick 
It  make'  his  head  swim  ! — An'  Red  Riding-Hood 
She  wuzn't  hurt  at  all ! 

An'  the  big  Man 

He  tooked  her  all  safe  home,  he  did,  an'  tell 
Her  Ma  she's  all  right  an'  ain't  hurt  at  all 
An'  old  Wolf's  dead  an'  killed — an'  everything ! — 
So  her  Ma  wuz  so  tickled  an'  so  proud, 
She  divved  him  all  the  dood  things  t'  eat  they  wuz 
'At's  in  the  basket,  an'  she  tell  him  'at 
She's  much  oblige',  an'  say  to  "call  ad'in." 
An'  story's  honest  truth — an'  all  so,  too ! 


254  Bud's  Fairy  Tale 

SOME  peoples  thinks  they  ain't  no  Fairies  now 
No  more  yet! — But  they  is,  I  bet!     'Cause  ef 
They  wuzn't  Fairies,  nen  I'  like  to  know 
Who'd  w'ite  'bout  Fairies   in  the  books,   an'  tell 
What  Fairies  does,  an'  how  their  picture  looks, 
An'  all  an'  ever'thing!     W'y,  ef  they  don't 
Be  Fairies  any  more,  nen  little  boys 

533 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

'Ud  ist  sleep  when  they  go  to  sleep  an'  won't 

Have  ist  no  dweams  at  all, — 'cause  Fairies — good 

Fairies — they're  a-purpose  to  make  dweams  ! 

But  they  is  Fairies — an'  I  know  they  is! 

'Cause  one  time  wunst,  when  it's  all  Summer-time, 

An'  don't  haf  to  be  no  fires  in  the  stove 

Er  fireplace  to  keep   warm   wiv — ner   don't  haf 

To   wear  old  scwatchy  flannen   shirts  at  all, 

An'  ain't  no  fweeze — ner  cold — ner  snow  ! — An' — an' 

Old  skweeky  twees  got  all  the  gween   leaves  on 

An'  ist  keeps  noddin',  noddin'  all  the  time, 

Like  they  'uz  lazy  an'  a-twyin'  to  go 

To  sleep  an'  couldn't,  'cause  the  wind  won't  quit 

A-blowin'  in  'em,  an'  the  birds  won't  stop 

A-singin',  so's  they  kin. — But  twees  don't  sleep, 

I  guess !  But  little  boys  sleeps — an'  dweams,  too. — 

An'  that's  a  sign  they's  Fairies. 

So,  one  time, 

When  I  be'n  playin'  "Store"  wunst  over  in 
The  shed  of  their  old  stable,  an'  Ed  Howard 
He  maked  me  quit  a-bein'  pardners,  'cause 
I   dwinked  the   'tend-like   sody-water  up 
An'  et  the  shore-nuff  cwackers, — w'y,  nen  I 
Clumbed  over  in  our  garden  where  the  gwapes 
Wtiz  purt'  nigh  ripe :    An'  I  wuz  ist  a-layin* 
There  on  th'  old  cwooked  seat  'at  Pa  maked  in 
Our  arber, — an*  so  I  'uz  layin'  there 
A-whittlin'  beets  wiv  my  new  dog-knife,  an' 
A-lookin'  wite  up  thue  the  twimbly  leaves — 
An'    wtizn't, 'sleep    at    all! — An'-sir  ! — first    thing 
You  know,  a  little  Fairy  hopped  out  there ! 
A  leetle-teenty  Fairy! — hope -may -'die! 

540 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An*  he  look'  down  at  me,  he  did — an'  he 
Ain't  bigger'n  a  yellerbird! — an'  he 
Say  "Howdy-do!"  he  did — an'  I  could  hear 
Him — ist  as  plain! 

Nen  7  say  "Howdy-do !" 
An'  he  say  "I'm  all  hunky,  Nibsey ;  how 
Is  your  folks  comin'  on?" 

An'  nen  I  say 

"My  name  ain't  'Nibsey,'  neever — my  name's  Bud.- 
An*  what's  your  name?"  I  says  to  him. 

An'  he 

Ist  laugh  an'  say,  "  'Bud's'  awful  funny  name !" 
An'  he  ist  laid  back  on  a  'big  bunch  o'  gwapes 
An'  laugh'  an'  laugh',  he  did — like  somebody 
'Uz  tick-el-un  his  feet! 

z'f-  An*  nen  I  say — 

"What's  your  name,"  nen  I  say,  "afore  you  bu'st 
Yo'se'f  a-laughin'  'bout  my  name?"  I  says. 
An'  nen  he  dwy  up  laughin' — kind  o'  mad — 
An'  say,  "W'y,  my  name's  Squidjicum"  he  says. 
An'  nen  /  laugh  an'  say — "Gee !  what  a  name  !" 
An'  when  I  make  fun  of  his  name,  like  that, 
He  ist  git  awful  mad  an'  spunky,  an' 
'Fore  you  know,  he  ist  gwabbed  holt  of  a  vine — 
A  big  long  vine  'at's  danglin'  up  there,  an' 
He  ist  helt  on  wite  tight  to  that,  an'  down 
He  swung  quick  past  my  face,  he  did,  an'  ist 
Kicked  at  me  hard's  he  could! 

But  I'm  too  quick 

Fer  Mr.   Squidjicum!     I   ist   weached   out 
An'  ketched  him,  in  my  hand — an'  helt  him,  too, 
An'  squeezed  him,  ist  like  little  wobins  when 

5  IT 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

They  can't  fly  yet  an'  git  flopped  out  their  nest. 

An'  nen  I  turn  him  all  wound  over,  an' 

Look  at  him  clos't,  you  know — wite  clos't, — 'cause  ef 

He  is  a  Fairy,  w'y,  I  want  to  see 

The  wings  he's  got. — But  he's  dwessed  up  so  fine 

'At  I  can't  see  no  wings. — An'  all  the  time 

He's  twyin'  to  kick  me  yet:     An'  so  I  take 

F'esh  holts  an'  squeeze  ag'in — an'  harder,  too ; 

An'  I  says.   "Hold  up,  Mr.  Squid jicum! — 

You're  kickin'  the  wrong  man !"  I  says ;  an'  nen 

I  ist  squeeze'  him,  pttrt'  nigh  my  best,  I  did — 

An'  I  heerd  somepin'  bu'st ! — An'  nen  he  cwied 

An*  says,  "You  better  look  out  what  you're  doin' ! — 

You'  bu'st  my  spiderweb-suspenners,  an' 

You'  got  my  woseleaf-coat  all  cwinkled   up 

So's  I  can't  go  to  old  Miss  Hoodjicum's 

Tea-party,  's  afternoon !" 

An*  nen  I  says — 
"Who's  'old  Miss  Hoodjicum'?"  I  says 

An'  he 

Says,  "Ef  you  lemme  loose  I'll  tell  you." 

So 

I  helt  the  little  skeezics  'way  fur  out 
In  one  hand — so's  he  can't  jump  down  t'  th'  ground 
Wivout  a-gittin'  all  stove  up:  an'  nen 
I  says,  "You're  loose  now. — Go  ahead  an*  tell 
'Bout  the  'tea-party'  where  you're  goin'  at 
So  awful  fast!"  I  says. 

An*  nen  he  say, — 

"No  use  to  tell  you  'bout  it,  'cause  you  won't 
Believe  it,  'less  you  go  there  your  own  se'f 
An'  see  it  wiv  your  own  two  eyes!"  he  says. 

542 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

An*  he  says :  "Ef  you  lemme  shore-nuff  loose, 
An'  p'omise  'at  you'll  keep  wite  still,  an'  won't 
Tetch  nothin'  'at  you  see — an'  never  tell 
Nobody  in  the  world — an'  lemme  loose — 
W'y,  nen  I'll  take  you  there!" 

But  I  says,  "Yes 

An'  ef  I  let  you  loose,  you'll  run!"  I  says. 
An'  he  says,  "No,  I  won't ! — I  hope-may-die !" 
Ncn  I  says,  "Cwoss  your  heart  you  won't!" 

An'  he 

1st  cwoss  his  heart;  an'  nen  I  weach  an'  set 
The  little  feller  up  on  a  long  vine — 
An'  he  'uz  so  tickled  to  git  loose  ag'in, 
He  gwab'  the  vine  wiv  boff  his  little  hands 
An'  ist  take  an*  turn  in,  he  did,  an'  skin 
'Bout  f  orty-'leben  cats  ! 

Nen  when  he  git 

Thue  whirlin'  wound  the  vine,  an'  set  on  top 
Of  it  ag'in,  w'y»  ner*  his  "woseleaf-coat" 
He  bwag  so  much  about,  it's  ist  all  tored 
Up,  an'  ist  hangin'  strips  an'  rags — so  he 
Look  like  his  Pa's  a  dwunkard.     An'  so  nen 
When  he  see  what  he's  done — a-actin'  up 
So  smart, — he's  awful  mad,   I  guess ;   an'  ist 
Pout  out  his  lips  an'  tvvis'  his  little  face 
Ist  ugly  as  he  kin,  an'  set  an'  tear 
His  whole  coat  off — an'  sleeves  an'  all. — An'  nen 
He  wad  it  all  togevver  an'  ist  throw 
It  at  me  ist  as  hard  as  he  kin  dwive ! 
An'  when  I  weach  to  ketch  him,  an'  'uz  goin' 
To  give  him  'nuvver  squeezin',  he  ist  flewcd 
Clean  up  on  top  the  arber! — 'Cause,  you  know, 

543 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

They  wuz  wings  on  him — when  he  tored  his  coat 
Clean    off — they   wuz   wings    under    there.      But    they 
Wuz  purty  wobbly-like  an'  wouldn't  work 
Hardly  at  all — 'Cause  purty  soon,  when  I 
Th'owed  clods  at  him,  an'  sticks,  an'  got  him  shooed 
Down  off  o'  there,  he  come  a-floppin'  down 
An'   lit  k-bang!    on   our  old   chicken-coop, 
An'  ist  laid  there  a-whimper'n'  like  a  child ! 
An'  I  tiptoed  up  wite  clos't,  an'  I  says,  "What's 
The  matter  wiv  ye,  Squidjicum?" 

An'  he 

Says  :    "Dog-gone !  when  my  wings  gits  stwaight  ag'in, 
Where  you  all  czvumpled  'em,"  he  says,  "I  bet 
I'll  ist  fly  clean  away  an'  won't  take  you 
To  old  Miss  Hoodjicum's  at  all!"  he  says. 
An'  nen  I  ist  weach  out  wite  quick,  I  did, 
An'  gwab  the  sassy  little  snipe  ag'in — 
Nen  tooked  my  top-string  an'  tie  down  his  wings 
So's  he  can't  fly,  'less'n  I  want  him  to ! 
An'  nen   I   says:     "Now,   Mr.   Squidjicum, 
You  better  ist  light  out,"  I  says,  "to  old 
Miss  Hoodjicum's,  an'  show  me  how  to  git 
There,  too,"  I  says;  "er  ef  you  don't,"  I  says, 
"I'll  climb  up  wiv  you  on  our  buggy-shed 
An'  push  you  off !"  I  says. 

An*  nen  he  say 

All  wight,  he'll  show  me  there;  an'  tell  me  nen 
To  set  him  down  wite  easy  on  his  feet, 
An'  loosen  up  the  stwing  a  little  where 
It   cut   him   under   th'    arms.     An'   nen   he    says, 
"Come  on!"  he  says;  an'  went  a-limpin'  'long 
The   garden-path — an'   limpin'   'long   an'   'long 

544 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Tel — purty  soon  he  come  on  'long  to  where's 
A  grea'-big  cabbage-leaf.     An'  he  stoop  down 
An'  say,  "Come  on  inunder  here  wiv  me !" 
So  /  stoop  down  an'  crawl  inunder  there, 
Like  he  say. 

An'  inunder  there's  a  grea'- 
Big  clod,  they  is — a'  awful  grea'-big  clod  ! 
An*  nen  he  says,  "Woll  this-here  clod  away!" 
An*  so  I  woll*  the  clod  away.    An'  nen 
It's  all  wet,  where  the  dew'z  inunder  where 
The  old  clod  wuz, — an*  nen  the  Fairy  he 
Git  on  the  wet-place :    Nen  he  say  to  me, 
"Git  on  the  wet-place,  too !"     An'  nen  he  say, 
"Now  hold  yer  breff  an'  shet  yer  eyes!"  he  says, 
"Tel  I  say  Squinchy-winchy!"     Nen  he  say — 
Somepin'  in  Dutch,  I  guess. — An'  nen  I  felt 
Like  we  'uz  sinkin'  down — an'  sinkin'  down ! — 
Tel  purty  soon  the  little  Fairy  weach 
An'  pinch  my  nose  an'  yell  at  me  an'  say, 
"Squinchy-winchy!     Look   -wherever  you  please!" 
Nen  when  I  looked — Oh!  they  'uz  purtyest  place 
Down  there  you  ever  saw  in  all  the  World ! — • 
They  'uz  ist  flowers  an'  woses — yes,  an*  twees 
Wiv  blossoms  on  an'  big  wipe  apples  boff ! 
An'  butterflies,  they  wuz — an'  hummin'-birds — 
An'  yellerbirds  an'  bluebirds — yes,  an'  wed! — 
An*  ever'wheres  an'  all  awound  'uz  vines 
Wiv  ripe  p'serve-pears  on  'em! — Yes,  an'  all 
An'  ever'thing  'at's  ever  gwowin'  in 
A  garden — er  canned  up — all  wipe  at  wunst! — • 
It  wuz  ist  like  a  garden— only  it 
'Uz  little  bit  o'  garden — 'bout  big  wound 

545 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

As  ist  our  twun'el-bed  is. — An'  all  wound 

An'  wound  the  little  garden's  a  gold  fence — 

An'  little  gold  gate,  too — an'  ash-hopper 

'At's  all  gold,  too— an'  ist  full  o'  gold  ashes! 

An'  wite  in  th'  middle  o*  the  garden  wuz 

A  little  gold  house,  'at's  ist  'bout  as  big 

As  ist  a  bird-cage  is :  An'  in  the  house 

They  'uz  whole-lots  more  Fairies  there — 'cause  I 

Picked  up  the  little  house,  an'  peeked  in  at 

The  winders,  an'  I  see  'em  all  in  there 

Ist  bug  gin'  wound!     An'  Mr.  Squidjicum 

He  twy  to  make  me  quit,  but  I  gwab  him, 

An*  poke  him  down  the  chimbly,  too,  I  did ! — 

An'  y'ort  to  see  him  hop  out  'mongst  'em  there! 

Ist  like  he  'uz  the  boss  an'  ist  got  back ! — 

"Hain't  ye  got   on    t  hem-air  dew-dump  tin's  yet?" 

He  says. 

An'   they   says   no. 

An'  nen  he  says — 

"Better  git  at  'em  nen!"  he   says,   "wite  quick — 
'Cause   old  Miss  Hoodjicum's  a-eomin'!" 

Nen 

They  all  set  wound  a  little  gold  tub — an' 
All  'menced  a-peelin'  dewdwops,  ist  like  they 
'Uz  peaches. — An',  it  looked  so  funny,  I 
Ist  laugh'  out  loud,  an'  dwopped  the  little  house, — 
An*  't  bu'sted  like  a  soap-bubble ! — An'  't  skeered 
Me  so,  I — I — I — I, — it  skeered  me  so, — 
I — ist  waked  up. — No  !  I  ain't  be'n  asleep 
An'  dweam  it  all,  like  you  think, — but  it's  shore 
Fer-certain  fact  an*  cwoss  my  heart  it  is ! 


546 


THE  HOOSIER   BOOK 
The  Bear  Story 

THAT  ALEX    "iST    MAKED    UP   HIS-OWN-SEV 

W'Y,  WUNST  they  wuz  a  Little  Boy  went  out 
In  the  woods  to  shoot  a  bear.    So,  he  went  out 
'Way  in  the  grea'-big  woods — he  did. — An'  he 
Wuz  goin'  along — an'  goin'  along,  you  know, 
An'  purty  soon  he  heerd  somepin'  go  "Wo oh  I" 
1st  thataway — "Woo-ooh!"    An'  he  wuz  skcercd, 
He  wuz.    An'  so  he  runned  an'  clumbed  a  tree — 
A  grea'-big  tree,  he  did, — a  sicka-won?  tree. 
An'  nen  he  heerd  it  ag'in :  an'  he  looked  round, 
An*  't'us  a  Bear! — a  grea'-big,  shorc-nuff  Bear! — 
No :  't'uz  two  Bears,  it  wuz — two  grea'-big  Bears — 
One  of  'em  wuz — 1st  one's  a  grea'-big  Bear. — 
But  they  ist  boff  went  "Wooh!" — An'  here  they  come 
To  climb  the  tree  an'  git  the  Little  Boy 
An'  eat  him  up ! 

An'  nen  the  Little  Boy 

He  'uz  skeered  worse'n  ever !    An'  here  come 
The  grea'-big  Bear  a-climbin*  th'  tree  to  git 
The  Little  Boy  an'  eat  him  up — Oh,  no! — 
It  'uzn't  the  Big  Bear  'at  dumb  the  tree- 
It  'uz  the  Little  Bear.    So  here  he  come 
Climbin'  the  tree — an'  climbin'  the  tree !    Nen  when 
He  git  wite  clos't  to  the  Little  Boy,  w'y,  nen 
The  Little  Boy  he  ist  pulled  up  his  gun 
An'  shot  the  Bear,  he  did,  an'  killed  him  dead! 
An'  nen  the  Bear  he  failed  clean  on  down  out 


547 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

The  tree — away  clean  to  the  ground,  he  did — 
Spliny-splung!  he  failed  plum  down,  an'  killed  him, 

too! 
An'  lit  wite  side  o'  where  the  Big  Bear's  at. 

An'    nen    the    Big    Bear's    awful   mad,    you    bet!— 

'Cause — 'cause  the  Little  Boy  he  shot  his  gun 

An'  killed  the  Little  Bear.— 'Cause  the  Big  Bear 

He— he  'uz  the  Little  Bear's  Papa.— An'  so  here 

He  come  to  climb  the  big  old  tree  an'  git 

The  Little  Boy  an'  eat  him  up !    An'  when 

The  Little  Boy  he  saw  the  grea'-big  Bear 

A-comin',  he  'uz  badder  skeered,  he  wuz,    • 

Than  any  time !    An'  so  he  think  he'll  climb 

Up  higher — 'way  up  higher  in  the  tree 

Than  the  old  Bear  kin  climb,  you  know. — But  he — 

He   can't  climb   higher   'an   old   Bears  kin   climb,— 

'Cause  Bears  kin  climb  up  higher  in  the  trees 

Than  any  little  Boys  in  all  the  Wo-r-r-ld ! 

An'  so  here  come  the  grea'-big  Bear,  he  did, — 
A-climbin'  up — an'  up  the  tree,  to  git 
The  Little  Boy  an'  eat  him  up !    An'  so 
The  Little  Boy  he  clumbed  on  higher,  an'  higher, 
An'  higher  up  the  tree — an'  higher — an'  higher— 
An'  higher'n  iss-here  house  is  ! — An'  here  come 
Th'  old  Bear — clos'ter  to  him  all  the  time ! — 
An'  nen — first  thing  you  know, — when  th'  old  Big 

Bear 

Wuz  wite  clos't  to  him — nen  the  Little  Boy 
1st  jabbed  his  gun  wite  in  the  old  Bear's  mouf 


548 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

An'  shot  an'  killed  him  dead  ! — No ;  I  f ergot, — 
He  didn't  shoot  the  grea'-big  Bear  at  all— 
'Cause  they  'us  no  load  in  the  gun,  you  know — 
'Cause  when  he  shot  the  Little  Bear,  w'y,  nen 
No  load  'uz  any  more  nen  in  the  gun ! 

But  th'  Little  Boy  clumbed  higher  up,  he  did — 

He  clumbed  lots  higher — an'  on  up  higher — an'  higher 

An'  higher — tel  he  ist  can't  climb  no  higher, 

'Cause  nen  the  limbs  'uz  all  so  little,  'way 

Up  in  the  teeny-weeny  tip-top  of 

The  tree,  they'd  break  down  wiv  him  ef  he  don't 

Be  keerful !    So  he  stop  an'  think :  An'  nen 

He  look  around — An'  here  come  the  old  Bear ! 

An'  so  the  Little  Boy  make  up  his  mind 

He's  got  to  ist  git  out  o'  there  some  way ! — 

'Cause  here  come  the  old  Bear ! — so  clos't,  his  bref's 

Purt'  nigh  so's  he  kin  feel  how  hot  it  is 

Ag'inst  his  bare  feet — ist  like  old  "Ring's"  bref 

When  he's  be'n  out  a-huntin'  an'  's  all  tired. 

So  when  th'  old  Bear's  so  clos't — the  Little  Boy 

Ist  gives  a  grea'-big  jump  fer  Another  tree — 

No  ! — no,  he  don't  do  that ! — I  tell  you  what 

The  Little  Boy  does  : — W'y,  nen — w'y,  he — Oh,  yes — 

The  Little  Boy  he  finds  a  hole  up  there 

'At's  in  the  tree — an'  climbs  in  there  an'  hides — 

An'  nen  the  old  Bear  can't  find  the  Little  Boy 

At  all ! — But  purty  soon  the  old  Bear  finds 

The  Little  Boy's  gun  'at's  up  there — 'cause  the  gun 

It's  too  tall  to  tooked  wiv  him  in  the  hole. 

So,  when  the  old  Bear  find'  the  gun,  he  knows 


549 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

The  Little  Boy  ist  hid  'round  somcrs  there, — 

An'  th*  old  Bear  'gins  to  snuff  an'  sniff  around, 

An'  sniff  an'  snuff  around — so's  he  kin  find 

Out  where  the  Little  Boy's  hid  at. — An'  nen — nen — 

Oh,  yes! — W'y,  purty  soon  the  old  Bear  climhs 

'Way  out  on  a  big  limb — a  grea'-long  limb, — 

An'  nen  the  Little  Boy  climbs  out  the  hole 

An'  takes  his  ax  an'  chops  the  limb  off !    .    .    .    Nen 

The  old  Bear  falls  k-splunge!  clean  to  the  ground 

An'  bu'st  an'  kill  hisse'f  plum  dead,  he  did ! 

An'  nen  the  Little  Boy  he  git  his  gun 

An'  'menced  a-climbin'  down  the  tree  ag'in — 

No ! — no,  he  didn't  git  his  gun — 'cause  when 

The  Bear  failed,  nen  the  gun  failed,  too — An'  broked 

It  all  to  pieces,  too  ! — An'  nicest  gun  ! — 

His  Pa  ist  buyed  it !— An'  the  Little  Boy 

Ist  cried,  he  did ;  an'  went  on  climbin'  down 

The  tree — an'  climbin'  down — an'  climbin'  down  ! — 

An'-sir!  when  he  'uz  purt'  nigh  down, — w'y,  nen 

The  old  Bear  he  jumped  up  ag'in! — an'  he 

Ain't  dead  at  all — ist  'tendin'  thataway, 

So  he  kin  git  the  Little  Boy  an'  eat 

Him  up !    But  the  Little  Boy  he  'uz  too  smart 

To  climb  clean  down  the  tree. — An'  the  old  Bear 

He  can't  climb  up  the  tree  no  more — 'cause  when 

He  fell,  he  broke  one  of  his — He  broke  all 

His  legs  ! — an'  nen  he  couldn't  climb !     But  he 

Ist  won't  go  'way  an'  let  the  Little  Boy 

Come  down  out  of  the  tree.    An'  the  old  Bear 

Ist  growls  'round  there,  he  does — ist  growls  an'  goes 


550 


THE   IIOOSIER   BOOK 

"Wooh!—woo-ooh!"  all  the  time!    An'  Little  Boy 

He  haf  to  stay  up  in  the  tree— all  night— 

An'  'thout  no  supper  neever ! — Only  they 

Wuz  apples  on  the  tree !— An'  Little  Boy 

Et  apples — ist  all  night — an'  cried — an'  cried ! 

Nen  when  't  'uz  morning  th'  old  Bear  went  "Wooh!'' 

Ag'in,  an'  try  to  climb  up  in  the  tree 

An'  git  the  Little  Boy. — But  he  can't 

Climb  t'  save  his  soul,  he  can't — An'  oh!  he's  mad! — 

He  ist  tear  up  the  ground!  an'  go  "Woo-ooh!" 

An' — Oh,  yes! — purty  soon,  when  morning's  come 

All  light — so's  you  kin  see,  you  know, — w'y,  nen 

The  old  Bear  finds  the  Little  Boy's  gun,  you  know, 

'At's  on  the  ground. —  (An'  it  ain't  broke  at  all — 

I  ist  said  that!)     An'  so  the  old  Bear  think 

He'll  take  the  gun  an'  shoot  the  Little  Boy : — 

But  Bears  they  don't  know  much  'bout  shootin'  guns  : 

So  when  he  go  to  shoot  the  Little  Boy, 

The  old  Bear  got  the  other  end  the  gun 

Ag'in'  his  shoulder,  'stid  o'  th'  other  end — 

So  when  he  try  to  shoot  the  Little  Boy, 

It  shot  the  Bear,  it  did — an'  killed  him  dead ! 

An'  nen  the  Little  Boy  dumb  down  the  tree 

An'  chopped  his  old  woolly  head  off. — Yes,  an'  killed 

The  other  Bear  ag'in,  he  did — an'  killed 

All  boff  the  bears,  he  did — an'  tuk  'em  home 

An'  cooked  'em,  too,  an'  et  'em ! 

—An'  that's  all. 


551 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

\i/.       |  'MTliJ    0£*j    IIjJ'-J '  ViV>}V  -.-  '  -C.  /?-•.•—*  iSi-''V'4V  ' 

Uncle  Mart's  Poem 

THE  OLD  SNOW  MAN 

HO !  the  old  Snow-Man 
That  Noey  Bixler  made ! 
He  looked  as  fierce  and  sassy 
As  a  soldier  on  parade ! — 
'Cause  Noey,  when  he  made  him, 

While  we  all  wuz  gone,  you  see, 
He  made  him,  jist  a-purpose, 
Jist  as  fierce  as  he  could  be ! — 
But  when  we  all  got  ust  to  him, 

Nobody  wuz  afraid 
Of  the  old  Snow-Man 
That  Noey  Bixler  made ! 

'Cause  Noey  told  us  'bout  him 

And  what  he  made  him  f  er : — 
He'd  come  to  feed,  that  morning, 

He  found  we  wuzn't  here ; 
And  so  the  notion  struck  him, 

When  we  all  come  taggin'  home 
'T'ud  s'prise  us  ef  a'  old  Snow-Man 

'Ud  meet  us  when  we  come ! 
So,  when  he'd  fed  the  stock,  and  milked, 

And  be'n  back  home,  and  chopped 
His  wood,  and  et  his  breakfast,  he 

Jist  grabbed  his  mitts  and  hopped 
Right  in  on  that-air  old  Snow-Man 

That  he  laid  out  he'd  make 
552 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Er  bu'st  a  trace  a-tryin' — jist 
Fer  old-acquaintance-sake ! — 

But  work  like  that  wuz  lots  more  fun, 

He  said,  than  when  he  played ! 
Ho!  the  old  Snow-Man 
That  Noey  Bixler  made ! 

He  started  with  a  big  snow-ball, 

And  rolled  it  all  around  ; 
And  as  he  rolled,  more  snow  'ud  stick 

And  pull  up  off  the  ground. — 
He  rolled  and  rolled  all  round  the  yard — 

'Cause  we  could  see  the  track, 
All  wher'  the  snow  come  off,  you  know, 

And  left  it  wet  and  black. 
He  got  the  Snow-Man's  legs-part  rolled — 

In  front  the  kitchen-door,— 
And  then  he  hat  to  turn  in  then 

And  roll  and  roll  some  more ! — 
He  rolled  the  yard  all  round  ag'in, 

And  round  the  house,  at  that — 
Clean  round  the  house  and  back  to  wher' 

The  blame  legs-half  wuz  at ! 

He  said  he  missed  his  dinner,  too — 

Jist  clean  fergot  and  stayed 
There  workin'.    Oh !  the  old  Snow-Man 
That  Noey  Bixler  made  ! 

And  Noey  said  he  hat  to  hump 

To  git  the  top-half  on 
The  legs-half!— When  he  did,  he  said, 

His  wind  wuz  purt'  nigh  gone. — 


553 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

He  said,  i  jucks!  he  jist  drapped  down 

There  on  the  old  porch-floor 
And  panted  like  a  dog! — And  then 
He  up  !  and  rolled  some  more ! — 
The  last  batch— that  wuz  fer  his  head,— 

And— time  he'd  got  it  right 
And  dumb  and  fixed  it  on,  he  said — 

He  hat  to  quit  fer  night!— 
And  then,  he  said,  he'd  kep'  right  on 

Ef  they'd  be'n  any  moon 
To  work  by !     So  he  crawled  in  bed — 
And  could  'a'  slep'  tel  noon, 

He  wuz  so  plum  wore  out !  he  said,- 

But  it  wuz  washin'-day, 
And  hat  to  cut  a  cord  o'  wood 
'Fore  he  could  git  away! 

But,  last,  he  got  to  work  ag'in, — 

With  spade,  and  gouge,  and  hoe, 
And  trowel,  too — (All  tools  'ud  do 

What  Nocy  said,  you  know!) 
He  cut  his  eyebrows  out  like  cliffs — 

And  his  cheek-bones  and  chin 
Stuck  furdcr  out — and  his  old  nose 

Stuck  out  as  f  ur-ag'in  ! 
He  made  his  eyes  o'  walnuts, 

And  his  whiskers  out  o'  this- 
Here  buggy-cushion  stuffin' — moss, 

The  teacher  says  it  is. 
And  then  he  made  a'  old  wood'-gun, 

Set  keerless-like,  you  know, 


554 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Acrost  one  shoulder — kind  o'  like 
Big  Foot,  er  Adam  Poe— 
Er,  mayby,  Simon  Girty, 

The  dinged  old  Renegade! 
Wooh!  the  old  Snow-Man 
That  Noey  Bixler  made ! 

And  there  he  stood,  all  fierce  and  grim, 

A  stern,  heroic  form : 
What  was  the  winter  blast  to  him, 

And  what  the  driving  storm?— 
What  wonder  that  the  children  pressed 

Their  faces  at  the  pane 
And  scratched  away  the  frost,  in  pride 
To  look  on  him  again  ? 

What  wonder  that,  with  yearning  bold, 

Their  all  of  love  and  care 
Went  warmest  through  the  keenest  cold 
To  that  Snow-Man  out  there ! 

But  the  old  Snow-Man — 

What  a  dubious  delight 
He  grew  at  last  when  Spring  came  on 

And  days  waxed  warm  and  bright. — 
Alone  he  stood — all  kith  and  kin 

Of  snow  and  ice  were  gone; — 
Alone,  with  constant  tear-drops  in 

His  eyes  and  glittering  on 
His  thin,  pathetic  beard  of  black — 

Grief  in  a  hopeless  cause ! — 
Hope — hope  is  for  the  man  that  dies — 

What  for  the  man  that  thaws! 


555 


THE   HOOSIKR   BOOK 

O  Hero  of  a  hero's  make! — 
Let  marble  melt  and  fade, 

But  never  you — you  old  Snow-Man 
That  Noey  Bixler  made! 


icrft  n^m  aii}  io\ 
556 


MISCELLANY 


The  Gmoine  Ar-ticklc 

rF\A.LKIN'  o'  poetry — There're  few  men  yit 
JL    'At's  got  the  stuff  b'iled  down  so's  it'll  pour 

Out  sorghum-like,  and  keeps  a  year  and  more 
Jes'  sweeter  ever'  time  you  tackle  it! 
W'y>  all  the  jinglin'  truck  'at  hes  been  writ 

Fer  twenty  year  and  better  is  so  pore 

You  cain't  find  no  sap  in  it  any  more 
'N  you'd  find  juice  in  puff-balls! — And  I'd  quit! 
What  people  wants  is  facts,  I  apperhend; 

And  naked  Natur  is  the  thing  to  give 
Your  writin'  bottom,  eh  ?    And  I  contend 

'At  honest  work  is  allus  bound  to  live. 
Now  them's  my  views ;  'cause  you  kin  recommend 
Sich  poetry  as  that  from  end  to  end. 


258       Lines  to  An  Onsettled  Young 
Man 

WHAT  is  Life  at  last,"  says  you, 
'"At  woman  folks  and  man  folks  too, 
Cain't,  oncomplainin',  worry  through? 

"An'  what  is  Love,  'at  no  one  yit 
'At's  monkeyed  with  it  kin  forgit, 
Er  gits  fat  on  remember'n'  hit? 

557 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

"An'  what  is  Death?" — W'y,  looky  hyur- 
Ef  Life  an'  Love  don't  suit  you,  sir, 
Hit's  jes'  the  thing  yer  lookin'  f  er ! 


What  Smith  Knew  About 
Farming 


THERE  wasn't  two  purtier  farms  in  the  state 
Than  the  couple  of  which  I'm  about  to  relate;  — 
Jinin'  each  other  —  belongin'  to  Brown, 
And  jest  at  the  edge  of  a  flourishin'  town. 
Brown  was  a  man,  as  I  understand, 
That  allus  had  handled  a  good  'eal  o'  land, 
And  was  sharp  as  a  tack  in  drivin'  a  trade  — 
For  that's  the  way  most  of  his  money  was  made. 
And  all  the  grounds  and  the  orchards  about 
His  two  pet  farms  was  all  tricked  out 
With  poppies  and  posies 
And  sweet-smellin'  rosies  ; 
And  hundreds  o'  kinds 
Of  all  sorts  o'  vines, 

To  tickle  the  most  horticultural  minds  ; 
And  little  dwarf  trees  not  as  thick  as  your  wrist 
With  ripe  apples  on  'em  as  big  as  your  fist  : 
And  peaches,  —  Siberian  crabs  and  pears, 
And  quinces  —  Well  !  any  fruit  any  tree  bears  ; 
And  the  purtiest  stream  —  jest  a-swimmin'  with  fish, 
And  —  jest  a'most  everything  heart  could  wish! 
The  purtiest  orch'rds  —  I  wish  you  could  see 
How  purty  they  was,  fer  I  know  it  'ud  be 

558 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

A  regular  treat !— but  I'll  go  ahead  with 
My  story !    A  man  by  the  name  o'  Smith — 
(A  bad  name  to  rhyme, 
But  I  reckon  that  I'm 
Not  goin'  back  on  a  Smith!  nary  time!) 
'At  hadn't  a  soul  of  kin  nor  kith, 
And  more  money  than  he  knowed  what  to  do  with, — 
So  he  comes  a-ridin'  along  one  day, 
And  he  says  to  Brown,  in  his  offhand  way— 
Who   was  trainin'   some  newfangled   vines   round   a  bay- 
Winder — "Howdjr-do — look-a-here — say: 
What'll  you  take  fer  this  property  here?— 
I'm  talkin'  o'  leavin'  the  city  this  year, 
And  I  want  to  be 
Where  the  air  is  free, 

And  I'll  buy  this  place,  if  it  ain't  too  dear!" — 
Well — they  grumbled  and  jawed  aroun'— 
"I  don't  like  to  part  with  the  place,"  says  Brown ; 
"Well,"  says  Smith,  a-jerkin'  his  head, 
"That  house  yonder — bricks  painted  red — 
Jest  like  this'n — a  purtier  view — 
Who  is  it  owns  it?"    "That's  mine  too," 
Says  Brown,  as  he  winked  at  a  hole  in  his  shoe, 
"But  I'll  tell  you  right  here  jest  what  I  kin  do : — 
If  you'll  pay  the  figgers  I'll  sell  it  to  you." 
Smith  went  over  and  looked  at  the  place — 
Badgered  with  Brown,  and  argied  the  case — 
Thought  that  Brown's  figgers  was  rather  too  tall, 
But,  findin'  that  Brown  wasn't  goin'  to  fall, 
In  final  agreed, 
So  they  drawed  up  the  deed 
Fer  the  farm  and  the  fixtures — the  live  stock  an'  all 

559 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  so  Smith  moved  from  the  city  as  soon 

As  he  possibly  could — But  "the  man  in  the  moon" 

Knowed  more'n  Smith  o'  farmin'  pursuits, 

And  jest  to  convince  you,  and  have  no  disputes, 

How  little  he  knowed, 

I'll  tell  you  his  "mode," 

As  he  called  it,  o'  raisin'  "the  best  that  growed," 

In  the  way  o'  potatoes — 

Cucumbers — tomatoes, 

And  squashes  as  lengthy  as  young  alligators. 

'Twas  allus  a  curious  thing  to  me 

How  big  a  fool  a  feller  kin  be 

When  he  gits  on  a  farm  after  leavin'  a  town ! — 

Expectin'  to  raise  himself  up  to  renown, 

And  reap  fer  himself  agricultural  fame, 

By  growin'  of  squashes — without  any  shame — 

As  useless  and  long  as  a  technical  name. 

To  make  the  soil  pure, 

And  certainly  sure, 

He  plastered  the  ground  with  patent  manure. 

He  had  cultivators,  and  double-hoss  plows, 

And  patent  machines  fer  milkin'  his  cows ; 

And  patent  ha}^-forks — patent  measures  and  weights 

And  new  patent  back-action  hinges  fer  gates, 

And  barn  locks  and  latches,  and  such  little  dribs 

And  patents  to  keep  the  rats  out  o'  the  cribs — 

Reapers  and  mowers, 

And  patent  grain  sowers; 

And  drillers 

And  tillers 

And  cucumber  hillers, 
t      jitf  *f«  a&Qtes?$i{  £M:fa-4-feo -ft/lxft  ;aail  -inne  nut;}   y;ii 

560 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  harriers ; — and  had  patent  rollers  and  scrapers, 

And  took  about  ten  agricultural  papers. 

So  you  can  imagine  how  matters  turned  out : 

But  Brown  didn't  have  not  a  shadder  o'  doubt 

That  Smith  didn't  know  what  he  was  about 

When  he  said  that  "the  old  way  to  farm  was  played  out." 

But  Smith  worked  ahead, 

And  when  any  one  said 

That  the  old  way  o'  workin'  was  better  instead 

O'  his  "modern  idees,"  he  allus  turned  red, 

And  wanted  to  know 

What  made  people  so 

Infernally  anxious  to  hear  theirselves  crow? 

And  guessed  that  he'd  manage  to  hoe  his  own  row. 

Brown  he  come  onc't  and  leant  over  the  fence, 

And  told  Smith  that  he  couldn't  see  any  sense 

In  goin'  to  such  a  tremendous  expense 

Per  the  sake  o'  such  no-account  expeeriments : — 

"That'll  never  make  corn ! 

As  shore's  you're  born 

It'll  come  out  the  leetlest  end  of  the  horn !" 

Says  Brown,  as  he  pulled  off  a  big  roastin'-ear 

From  a  stalk  of  his  own 

That  had  tribble  outgrown 

Smith's  poor  yaller  shoots,  and  says  he,  "Looky  here ! 

This  corn  was  raised  in  the  old-fashioned  way, 

And  I  rather  imagine  that  this  corn'll  pay 

Expenses  fer  raisin'  it! — What  do  you  say?" 

Brown  got  him  then  to  look  over  his  crop.— 

His  luck  that  season  had  been  tip-top ! 

And  you  may  surmise 

Smith  opened  his  eyes 

56l 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

And  let  out  a  look  o'  the  wildest  surprise 

When  Brown  showed  him  punkins  as  big  as  the  lies 

He  was  stuffin'  him  with — about  offers  he's  had 

Per  his  farm  :    "I  don't  want  to  sell  very  bad," 

He  says,  but  says  he, 

"Mr.  Smith,  you  kin  see 

Per  yourself  how  matters  is  standin'  with  me, 

/  understand  farm-in'  and  I'd  better  stay, 

You  know,  on  my  farm ; — I'm  a-makin'  it  pay — 

I  oughtn't  to  grumble ! — I  reckon  I'll  clear 

Away  over  four  thousand  dollars  this  year." 

And  that  was  the  reason,  he  made  it  appear, 

Why  he  didn't  care  about  sellin*  his  farm, 

And  hinted  at  his  havin*  done  himself  harm 

In  sellin'  the  other,  and  wanted  to  know 

If  Smith  wouldn't  sell  back  ag'in  to  him. — So 

Smith  took  the  bait,  and  says  he,  "Mr.  Brown, 

I  wouldn't  sell  out,  but  we  might  swap  aroun' — 

How'll  you  trade  your  place  fer  mine?" 

(Purty  sharp  way  o'  comin'  the  shine 

Over  Smith!    Wasn't  it?)     Well,  sir,  this  Brown 

Played  out  his  hand  and  brought  Smithy  down — 

Traded  with  him  an',  workin'  it  cute, 

Raked  in  two  thousand  dollars  to  boot 

As  slick  as  a  whistle,  an'  that  wasn't  all, — 

He  managed  to  trade  back  ag'in  the  next  fall, — 

And  the  next — and  the  next — as  long  as  Smith  stayed 

He  reaped  with  his  harvests  an  annual  trade. — 

Why,  I  reckon  that  Brown  must  'a'  easily  made — 

On  an  average — nearly  two  thousand  a  year — 

Together  he  made  over  seven  thousand — clear. — 


562 


THE  HOOSIER  BOOK 

i  ill  Mr.  Smith  found  he  was  losin'  his  health 
In  as  big  a  proportion,  almost,  as  his  wealth ; 
So  at  last  he  concluded  to  move  back  to  town, 
And  sold  back  his  farm  to  this  same  Mr.  Brown 
At  very  low  figgers,  by  gittin'  it  down. 
Further'n  this  I  have  nothin*  to  say 
Than  merely  advisin'  the  Smiths  fer  to  stay 
In  their  grocery  stores  in  flourishin*  towns 
And  leave  agriculture  alone — and  the  Browns. 


260       Tivo  Sonnets  to  tJie  June-Bug 


YOU  make  me  jes'  a  little  nervouser 
Than  any  dog-gone  bug  I  ever  see ! 

And  you  know  night's  the  time  to  pester  me — 
When  any  tetch  at  all  '11  rub  the  fur 
Of  all  my  patience  back'ards !    You're  the  myrrh 

And  ruburb  of  my  life !    A  bumblebee 

Cain't  hold  a  candle  to  you ;  and  a  he 
Bald  hornet,  with  a  laminated  spur 
In  his  hip-pocket,  daresent  even  cheep 

When  you're  around !     And,  dern  ye !  you  have 

made 
Me  lose  whole  ricks  and  stacks  and  piles  of  sleep, — 

And  many  of  a  livelong  night  I've  laid 
And  never  shut  an  eye,  hearin'  you  keep 

Up  that  eternal  buzzin'  serenade ! 

563 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


ii 


And  I've  got  up  and  lit  the  lamp,  and  clum 

On  cheers  and  trunks  and  wash-stands  and  bureaus, 

And  all  such  dangerous  articles  as  those, 
And  biffed  at  you  with  brooms,  and  never  come 
In  two  feet  of  you, — maybe  skeered  you  some, — 

But  what  does  that  amount  to  when  it  throws 

A  feller  out  o'  balance,  and  his  nose 
Gits  barked  ag'inst  the  mantel,  while  you  hum 
Fer  joy  around  the  room,  and  churn  your  head 

Ag'inst  the  ceilin',  and  draw  back  and  butt 
The  plasterin'  loose,  and  drop — behind  the  bed? 

Where  never  human-bein'  ever  putt 
Harm's  hand  on  you,  er  ever  truthful  said 

He'd  choke  yer  dern  infernal  wizzen  shut! 


261  My  First  Womern 

I   BURIED  my  first  womern 
In  the  spring  ;  and  in  the  fall 
I  was  married  to  my  second, 

And  hain't  settled  yit  at  all  !— 
Fer  I'm  allus  thinkin'  —  thinkin' 

Of  the  first  one's  peaceful  ways, 
A-bilin'  soap  and  singin' 
Of  the  Lord's  amazin'  grace. 


564 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  I'm  thinkin'  of  her,  constants 

Dyin'  carpet  chain  and  stuff, 
And  a-makin'  up  rag  carpets, 

When  the  floor  was  good  enough 
And  I  mind  her  he'p  a-feedin', 

And  I  riccollect  her  now 
A-drappin'  corn,  and  keepin' 

Clos't  behind  me  and  the  plow ! 

And  I'm  allus  thinkin'  of  her 

Reddin'  up  around  the  house ; 
Er  cookin'  f er  the  farm-hands ; 

Er  a-drivin'  up  the  cows. — 
And  there  she  lays  out  yonder 

By  the  lower  medder  fence, 
Where  the  cows  was  barely  grazir 

And  they're  usin'  ever  sence. 

And  when  I  look  acrost  there — 

Say  it's  when  the  clover's  ripe, 
And  I'm  settin',  in  the  evenin', 

On  the  porch  here,  with  my  pipe 
And  the  other'n  hollers  "Henry !"- 

W'y  they  ain't  no  sadder  thing 
Than  to  think  of  my  first  women:. 

And  her  funeral  last  spring 
Was  a  year  ago — 


565 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


262          Our  Old  Friend  Nevcrfail 

OIT'S  good  to  ketch  a  relative  'at's  richer  and  don't  run 
When  you  holler  out  to  hold  up,  and'll  joke  and  have 

his  fun ; 
It's  good  to  hear  a  man  called  bad  and  then  find  out  he's 

not, 

Er  strike  some  chap  they  call  lukewarm  'at's  really  red-hot ; 
It's  good  to  know  the  Devil's  painted  jes'  a  leetle  black, 
And  it's  good  to  have  most  anybody  pat  you  on  the  back ; — 
But   jes'    the   best   thing    in    the    world's    our    old    friend 

Neverfail, 

When  he  wags  yer  hand  as  honest  as  an  old  dog  wags  his 
tail! 

I  like  to  strike  the  man  I  owe  the  same  time  I  can  pay, 

And  take  back  things  I've  borried,  and  su'prise  folks  that- 
away ; 

I  like  to  find  out  that  the  man  I  voted  fer  last  fall, 

That  didn'i;  git  elected,  was  a  scoundrel  after  all ; 

I  like  the  man  that  likes  the  pore  and  he'ps  'em  when  lie 
can; 

I  like  to  meet  a  ragged  tramp  'at's  still  a  gentleman  ; 

But  most  I  like — with  you,  my  boy — our  old  friend  Never 
fail, 

When  he  wags  yer  hand  as  honest  as  an  old  dog  wags  his 
tail! 


566 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

263        To—  "The  J.  IV.  R.  Literary 
Club" 

WELL,  it's  enough  to  turn  his  head  to  have  a  feller's 
name 
Swiped   with   a   Literary    Club  !  —  But   you're   the   ones   to 

blame  !  — 

I  call  the  World  to  witness  that  I  never  aggcd  ye  to  it 
By  ever  writin'  Classic-like  —  because  I  couldn't  do  it. 
I  never  run  to  "Hellicon,"  ner  writ  about  "Per-nas-sus," 
Ner  never  tried  to  rack  er  ride  around  on  old  "P-gassus"  ! 
When  "Tuneful  NineS"  has  cross'd  my  lines,  the  ink  'ud 

blot  and  blur  it, 
And  pen  'ud  jest  putt  back  fer  home,  and  take  the  short- 

way  f  er  it  ! 

And  so,  as  I'm  a-sayin',  —  when  you  name  your  LITERARY 
In  honor  o'  this  name  o'  mine,  it's  railly  nessessary  — 
Whilse  I'm  a-thankin'  you  and  all  —  to  warn  you,   ef  you 

do  it, 
I'll  haf  to  jine  the  thing  myse'f  'fore  I  can  live  up  to  it! 


3no  "n\  irwd  ot 
264  Old  Indiany 

FRAGMENT 

INTENDED   FOR   A   DINNER   OF   THE    INDIANA    SOCIETY 
OF  CHICAGO 

OLD  Indiany,  'course  we  know 
Is  first,  and  best,  and  most,  also, 
Of  all  the  States'  whole  forty-  four  :— 
She's  first  in  ever  thing,  that's  shore  !  — 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  best  in  ever'way  as  yet 

Made  known  to  man ;  and  you  kin  bet 

She's  most,  because  she  won't  confess 

She  ever  was,  or  will  be,  less! 

And  yet,  f  er  all  her  proud  array 

Of  sons,  how  many  gits  away ! — 

No  doubt  about  her  bein'  great 

But,  fellers,  she's  a  leaky  State ! 

And  them  that  boasts  the  most  about 

Her,  them's  the  ones  that's  dribbled  out 

Law !  jes'  to  think  of  all  you  boys 

'Way  over  here  in  Illinoise 

A-celebratin',  like  ye  air, 

Old  Indiany,  'way  back  there 

In  the  dark  ages,  so  to  speak, 

A-prayin'  for  ye  once  a  week 

And  wonderin'  what's  a-keepin'  you 

From  comin',  like  you  ort  to  do. 

You're  all  a-lookin'  well,  and  like 

You  wasn't  "sidin'  up  the  pike," 

As  the  tramp-shoemaker  said 

When  "he  sacked  the  boss  and  shed 

The  blame  town,  to  hunt  fer  one 

Where  they  didn't  work  fer  fun !" 

Lookin'  extry  well,  I'd  say, 

Your  old  home  so  fur  away. — 

Maybe,  though,  like  the  old  jour., 

Fun  ain't  all  yer  workin'  fer. 

So  you've  found  a  job  that  pays 

Better  than  in  them  old  days 

You  was  on  The  Weekly  Press, 

Heppin'  run  things,  more  er  less ; 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

Er  a-learnin'  telegraph- 
Operatin',  with  a  half- 
Notion  of  the  tinner's  trade, 
Er  the  dusty  man's  that  laid 
Out  designs  on  marble  and 
Hacked  out  little  lambs  by  hand, 
And  chewed  fine-cut  as  he  wrought, 
"Shapin'  from  his  bitter  thought" 
Some  squshed  mutterings  to  say, — 
"Yes,  hard  work,  and  porer  pay !" 
Er  you'd  kind  o'  thought  the  far- 
Gazin'  cuss  that  owned  a  car 
And  took  pictures  in  it,  had 
Jes*  the  snap  you  wanted — bad ! 
And  you  even  wondered  why 
He  kep'  foolin'  with  his  sky- 
Light  the  same  on  shiny  days 
As  when  rainin'.     (T  leaked  always.) 
Wondered  what  strange  things  was  hid 
In  there  when  he  shet  the  door 
And  smelt  like  a  burnt  drug  store 
Next  some  orchard-trees,  i  swan ! 
With  whole  roasted  apples  on! 
That's  why  Ade  is,  here  of  late, 
Buyin'  in  the  dear  old  State,— 
So's  to  cut  it  up  in  plots 
Of  both  town  and  country  lots. 

boIttEw  i-rtaoot  Mo  L>.'f)  no  .v/oo  fbliM 
\i  I iV//  rt.?  j£0rn*  miri  bsri  ?(}fmjrn  srfi  9>!LJ 


569 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 


5  Abe  Martin 

A~3E  MARTIN  !—  dad-burn  his  old  picture  ! 
P'tends  he's  a  Brown  County  fixture  — 
A  kind  of  a  comical  mixture 

Of  hoss-sense  and  no  sense  at  all  ! 
His  mouth,  like  his  pipe,  's  allus  goin', 
And  his  thoughts,  like  his  whiskers,  is  flowing 
And  what  he  don't  know  ain't  wuth  knowin'— 
From  Genesis  clean  to  baseball  ! 

The  artist,  Kin  Hubbard,  's  so  keerless 
He  draws  Abe  most  eyeless  and  earless, 
But  he's  never  yet  pictured  him  cheerless 

Er  with  fun  'at  he  tries  to  conceal,  — 
Whuther  on  to  the  fence  er  clean  over 
A-rootin'  up  ragweed  er  clover, 
Skeered  stiff  at  some  "Rambler"  er  "Rover" 

Er  newfangled  zutomobeel! 

It's  a  purty  steep  climate  old  Brown's  in  ; 
And  the  rains  there  his  ducks  nearly  drowns  in 
The  old  man  hisse'f  wades  his  rounds  in 

As  ca'm  and  serene,  mighty  nigh, 
As  the  old  handsaw-hawg,  er  the  mottled 
Milch  cow,  er  the  old  rooster  wattled 
Like  the  mumps  had  him  'most  so  well  throttled 

That  it  was  a  pleasure  to  die. 


570 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

But  best  of  'em  all's  the  fool-breaks  'at 
Abe  don't  see  at  all,  and  yit  makes  'at 
Both  me  and  you  lays  back  and  shakes  at 

His  comic,  miraculous  cracks 
Which  makes  him — clean  back  of  the  power 
Of  genius  itse'f  in  its  flower — 
This  Notable  Man  of  the  Hour, 

Abe  Martin,  The  Joker  on  Facts. 


266  My  Conscience 

0  OMETIMES  my  Conscience  says,  says  he, 
^-^    "Don't  you  know  me?" 

And  I,  says  I,  skeered  through  and  through, 

"Of  course  I  do. 

You  air  a  nice  chap  euer'  way, 

I'm  here  to  say ! 

You  make  me  cry — you  make  me  pray, 

And  all  them  good  things  thataway — 

That  is,  at  night.    Where  do  you  stay 

Durin'  the  day?" 

And  then  my  Conscience  says,  onc't  more, 

"You  know  me — shore?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  says  I,  a-trimblin'  faint, 

"You're  jes'  a  saint! 

Your  ways  is  all   so  holy-right, 

1  love  you  better  ever'  night 

You  come  around, — tel  plum  daylight, 
When  you  air  out  o'  sight!" 

571 


THE   HOOSIER   BOOK 

And  then  my  Conscience  sort  o'  grits 

His  teeth,  and  spits 

On   his   two   hands   and   grabs,    of   course, 

Some  old  remorse, 

And  beats  me  with  the  big  butt-end 

O'  that  thing — tel  my  clostest  friend 

'Ud  hardly  know  me.    "Now,"  says  he, 

"Be  keerful  as  you'd  orto  be 

And  allus  think  o'  me !" 


267  "A  Happy  Dream" 

WRITTEN  JUNE  26,   1916 

AS  fair  as  summer  just  begun, 
Come  Cornelia  Allison 
With  a  lovely  poem  made  for  me 
Lovely  as  a  poem  can  be. 
"O  how  wondrous  !"  I  exclaim. 
"Poem  in  theme  and  poem  in  name 
What  a  triumph  you  have  won, 
O  Cornelia  Allison  ! 


;b  fnirffr  !->j    -.bnuuifi  srrrco  u 
"flir^is  'o  Juo  TJ£  UOY  nos 

572 


INDEXES 

INDEX  OF  TITLES 
INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES 


INDEX  OF  TITLES 


23JT1T  HO 


INDEX   OF   TITLES 

NUMBER 

ABE  MARTIN      ,?.: ,      .         •         •       "«Havr««AM:.YXA<fcM  265 

ABSENCE  OF  LITTLE  WESLEY,  THE        .     "saaY/  aoC  .  197 

ALMOST  BEYOND  ENDURANCE       .         .     'iiaaaxci.  V>  .  162 

ARMAZINDY 

As  MY  UNCLE  UST  TO  SAY      a#™KI  CIHA  w»H  .  n7 

AT  AUNTY'S  HOUSE    .         ji^.aHT  ^o  WQ  war  |  103 

AT  "THE  LITERARY"  .  •  198 

BACK  FROM  TOWN      .         .     a»T  ^f-^.  ?^°  .  217 

BEAR  FAMILY,  A  -  242 

BEAR  STORY,  THE        .         .       •.H-'!/!.  dllli  £I  •  255 

BEE-BAG,  THE     ....     D  .  •  213 

BILLY  AND  His  DRUM        .         .  .  231 

BILLY  GOODIN'                               .       '.  -99 

BILLY  MILLER'S  CIRCUS  SHOW     .  .  167 
"BLUE-MONDAY"  AT  THE  SHOE  SHOP    .              wd#fl 

BOY  LIVES  ON  OUR  FARM,  THE    .  .  107 
BOYS'  CANDIDATE,  THE        .         .         .         .         .  g, 
BOY'S  MOTHER,  A                                            •      3gTJf, 

BOYS  OF  THE  OLD  GLEE  CLUB,  THE       ....  248 
BUB  SAYS   .        ^   .3-Aw>uw                           ?  *-)T 

BUD'S  FAIRY  TALE       .         .     «(x»3ir.:t/frl — a»WHiHV/  •  254 

BUMBLEBEE,  THE         .         .       .jg/i-aAfK'&iaiO.sHT  •  90 

BY  ANY  OTHER  NAME        .         .         .        ..  g;ia8  ?.  •  123 

<;£]•                                        .       A  .yjiMAH-aaiS  SHT  HO  WH^ 

CANARY  AT  THE  FARM,  A    .         .         .         .  THO*/!  -:  A.  a-sIS 

CASSANDER           ....         «KT  ..awaau.i  •  1^4 
CHILD-WORLD,  THE     .         .         .         ^nT  .,vr^//I 

CHRISTMAS  AFTERTHOUGHT          .     mvaMosavio.I  T  •  75 

CHRISTMAS  MEMORY,  A       ...         .z/ra.'VKTj  .  235 

CLIMATIC   SORCERY >:;wji>  •  239 

CLOVER,  THE       .       ^nT  ,«.i>}-.'7/  :m? 

577 


INDEX    OF   TITLES 

NUMBER 

"COMPANY  MANNERS"         .         .         .  HJTSI/  .     247 

"CooN-DoG  WESS"     ..      .HtfT  .Y^jaa'^  aJvrU  -v->  5     .       18 
CUORED  o'  SKEERIN'     .       -.      *:>/  /.r-rjjivr!:!  yvioY:j;J  ir.     219 

VQ7 

DAWN,  NOON  AND  DEWFALL        ..... 
DECORATION  DAY  ON  THE  PLACE 
DEFECTIVE  SANTA  CLAUS,  A 

Doc  SIFERS 

DOODLE-BUGS'S  CHARM,  THE  .  .  y  %?l/p  V( 
DOS'T  o'  BLUES,  A  .  .  .  .  .  Yjn 
DOWN  AROUND  THE  RIVER  .  .  .  ,?fn<  ^,. 
DOWN  ON  WRIGGLE  CRICK  ....  HH-j; 
DOWN  TO  THE  CAPITAL  .  .  ^  ^Q.PIn  .r 

DREAM-MARCH v      . 

DUBIOUS  "OLD  KRISS,"  A    .    ..,.„%  ^v>5ir>»?.V-f»: 

ELMER   BROWN    .         .     '    ."^  "'  ^"      ..  "  .    -v  J  •  .     223 

ERASMUS  WILSON       .         .         .  '" "'.   \    .  15 

EXTREMES   .         .         .         .         .        '.         .         /'  .     226 

EZRA  HOUSE '.  '^  .24 

FALL-CRICK  VIEW  OF  THE  EARTHQUAKE,  A        .  v  .  172 

FARMER  WHIPPLE— BACHELOR      .         .     ^  V T  Y.-7!  .  115 

FEEL  IN  THE  CHRIS'MAS-AIR,  A            .        \]'  "l-    ,i;n  .  153 

FESSLER'S  BEES  .         .         .         .       .y-'/.X^uinl)  <  205 

FEW  OF  THE  BIRD-FAMILY,  A 142 

FIRE  AT  NIGHT             .         .        -.   >\  .j/H/.'K-iiiT  T.\  m  \f\ 

FIRST  BLUEBIRD,  THE ':  .  28 

FISHING  PARTY,  THE          .         .         .     mT    .CJM<V  m  195 

FOLKS    AT    LONESOMEVILLE  THDUOHTaHT^A  _>:/        ^       J4Q 

FOOL-YOUNGENS  .  .  ..         A.  ,Y«OM.lM    ?./••       ^      230 

FULL  HARVEST,  A         .         .  vaaDHoS   :     <     jjg 

FUNNIEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD,  THE        .      'A\L^  -.      87 

5/8 


INDL:X  OF  TITLES 


GINOINE  AR-TICKLE,  THE     .     ;-°J 
COIN'  TO  THE  FAIR      .         .       -. 
GOLDIE  GOODWIN         -.         .       •. 
GOOD-BY  ER  HOWDY-DO         .      ••£  , 
GOOD,  OLD-FASHIONED  PEOPLE,  THE 
GRAMPA'S  CHOICE        .         .         . 
GRANDFATHER  SQUEERS        . 
GRANNY      .         .         .        •. 
GRIGGSBY'S  STATION     .        -. 
GUINEY-PIGS 
GUSTATORY  ACHIEVEMENT,  A 

HAPPY  DREAM,  A  .  . 
HAPPY  LITTLE  CRIPPLE,  THE 
HER  POET-BROTHER  .  . 
HIRED  MAN'S  DOG-STORY,  THE 


NUMBER 

HToM.  SDA^  o  .  257 

•  .       -.       ..'  w  .  204 

-r  .  187 

i;I  ;jr  .  168 

'I  JKJ  .  234 

.         ...   THQIT/!  .  181 

<r*«"'/TiMLJ  JAJJT:  .  85 

.       °X  ait4  YJJJa      .      47 
.         .        ..  33  pi  Top  2*4$ 
83 

.     n.Uivi  ';*AiQ  3     .     245 


.     auT  .     267 

.         .  .74 

QXA  x.aa  .     177 

:iHj  ,H3jJi  .     176 


HIRED  MAN'S  FAITH  IN  CHILDREN,  THE       .         .         .  159 

His  MOTHER'S  WAY    .......  112 

His  PA'S  ROMANCE     .....  jJiM       .  161 

HOME  AGAIN       .....   .\w\  Ki.ia:     .  220 

"HOMEAG'IN"      ........       151 

HOME-FOLKS        .         .         .       3HT  ,Q3-<r/i^-2-jijT      .     144 
HOME-MADE  FAIRY  TALE,  A     <*/.  A  a^W  a/.MT.siHH     .       38 
HOODOO,  THE       .         .      3*  AM  pr  aa^'J  «3Hrcl^  ?     .     124 
HOOSIER  CALENDAR,   A      '  WJoX  aajtrxaaijU  /^,       .     175 
HOOSIER  SPRING-POETRY  '  <iaAjQ  xHgl,  ra^aa-iH^      .     191 
Hoss,  THE          ......        3n'     .       22 

"How  DTD  You  REST,  LAST  NIGHT?"  .  g/J.  viia'io  .  134 
How  IT  HAPPENED  .  .  aooj'J^HT  UXA  4:>iCI  3JTiiS 
How  JOHN  QUIT  THE  FARM  sigjD»30JTiJ-pwT-jaj  .  Ill 
HYMB  OF  FAITH,  A  .  .  g.iTM'2yjHO  .a'gT^HoX  3^TT^ 

Q\I       .  .    '    A   ,8W3lV   8fYoS  3MAJ   3JTTlJ 


579 


INDEX    OF   TITLES 

NUMBER 

I'  GOT  TO  FACE  MOTHER  TO-DAY    -;HT  ,  j  jx  jir-^A  •     1^8 

IDIOT,  AN    ......     aiA^  3HT  .     158 

IMPETUOUS  RESOLVE,  AN     .         .         .        .*uwci»xx  •      97 

IMPROMPTU  FAIRY-TALE,  AN       .         .     -awnll  KA  -     221 

IN  FERVENT  PRAISE  OF  PICNICS    .     Tc3;ioi.H  £/.'•"£-<].  •     238 

IN  THE  NIGHT    .....      Dions'  ?;,  •      76 

INTELLECTUAL  LIMITATIONS          .       gfluautjS  SMIT.  •     227 

IRY  AND  BILLY  AND  Jo        .         .         .        ..     •  ..  .121 

IT'S  GOT  TO  BE    .....     /.OJTAT&  g'  •     190 

JACK  THE  GIANT  KILLER     .      A.  /r.-t.'uovH.fcHjA.yfl     .  114 

JAP    MILLER        ........  113 

JAYBIRD,  THE        .....     A.,MA/!»iO     •  241 

JIM     .....        snT  ,ajTitjO  ;-MTTI..     •  51 

JOHN  ALDEN  AND  PERCILLY          .         .     -^HTOHE-T     .  128 

JOLLY  MILLER,  THE     .         .      ,,T  .Ya«T£-;>wGf  <'YL.     .  102 

JONEY          •'.,*;     ,       •         JWT    ,X.-i>HIJl«D   '/J    HTU.'I   «ViAl     -         46 


F       ,-»,  :                                                 .  -y/.V/  g'asuroM  arTf 

KINGRY'S  MILL    .....     SDX/JAOH  ;     .  45 

KNEE-DEEP  IN  JUNE    .....      v.it-^j  .  41 

LAND  OF  THUS-AND-SO,  THE       .         .         .       gun     .  84 

"LAST  CHRISTMAS  WAS  A  YEAR  AGO"      cMt-.'l  aa/,     .  203 

LIKE  His  MOTHER  USED  TO  MAKE       .         .       ^wT     .  49 

LINES  TO  AN  UNSETTLED  YOUNG  MAN    ,H/,n>!HJA3      •  258 

LINES  TO  PERFESSER  JOHN  CLARK  RIDPATH      -:\m?<     .  36 

LISPER,  THE        .......  31;     .  163 

LITTLE  COUSIN  JASPER      rjioiX.T«/-.,L  ,-\^-M  :.;.)Y  a     .  212 

LITTLE  DICK  AND  THE  CLOCK      .         .      a^s'TiAH     .  229 

LlTTLE-GlRL-TwO-LlTTLE-GlRLS      .       '\7L  3IIT  .TI  'jQ.  Vl       .  244 

LITTLE  JOHNTS'S  CHRIS'MUS        .         .     A  .,H  ri/.H       .  88 

LITTLE  LAME  BOY'S  VIEWS,  A    .....  179 


INDEX   OF  TITLES 


LITTLE  MANDY'S  CHRISTMAS-TREE 
LITTLE  MOCK-MAN,  THE     . 
LITTLE  ORPHANT  ANNIE     . 
LITTLE  TINY  KICKSHAW,  THE     . 
LITTLE  TOWN  o'  TAILHOLT,  THE 
•LIZABUTH-ANN  ON  BAKIN'-DAY 
LIZ-TOWN  HUMORIST,  A    .        . 


MAN  BY  THE  NAME  OF  BOLUS,  A  >. 
MAN  IN  THE  MOON,  THE  .  mT  «•"* 
MARTHY  ELLEN  .  .  .  :1^ 

MAX  AND  JIM     .... 
MAYMIE'S  STORY  OF  RED  RIDING-HOOD 
ME  AND  MARY    .... 
MISTER   HOP-TOAD      .         . 

'MONGST   THE   HlLLS   o'    SOMERSET       //-. 

MORTUL  PRAYER,  A  . 
"MOTHER"  .... 
MULBERRY  TREE,  THE  . 
MUSKINGUM  VALLEY,  THE 
MY  CONSCIENCE  .  . 
MY  DANCIN'-DAYS  Is  OVER 
MY  FIDDLE  .  ••  . 
MY  FIRST  WOMERN  .  ^  . 
MY  HENRY  .  .  . 
MY  PHILOSOFY  .  .  .:--.  >J 

MY    RUTHERS          .  .       f-i^HA 

"MYLO  JONES'S  WIFE"         . 

NAME  Us  No  NAMES  No  MORE 
NAUGHTY  CLAUDE        .         . 
NEVER  TALK  BACK      .. 


NUMBER 
Y       86 

•  *48 
gr      .      56 
..60 
.,<»     .      55 
J  a     .     184 

^QiHH/3-cL*» 
xaufT  YZ^AJU)  cuQ 
anT  ,wc*o  .  218 
3«T 

&&*     -      63 

J'^VH  .     253 

•  17° 

•  145 

-.V«  •       214 

.Y«3^Tj  '/-  &*  .  185 

.               «3HO  .  12 

>-<tf^  •  133 

«3J  .  266 

.      .aj?T  ,<ji^  .  150 

3«T  W  W™     •      14 
.YHA;;HU;(O.    ^     .     261 
.ijoi.i;[(J  0x4  a.irjjH     .     136 


fQ.  HTA^Q 


16 

194 

95 

169 


INDEX   OF  TITLES 

NUMBER 

NEW  YEAR'S  TIME  AT  WILLARDS'S,  A  .     -j  .;//,!/•/}/    •  $2 

NOBLE  OLD  ELM,  THE        .        ..    3H?  //^M^soM   •  232 

NOTHIN'  TO  SAY          .         .        ..    :[I>!.KA  TKAHI*(     -  196 

n  .  3HT   ,WAH3ajI>I  YXlT    SJTTlJ 

OLD  BAND,  THE         ,. "  ,.   3.HT  .CJOHJIA'          YM.    •  202 

"OLD  BOB  WHITE"      .         ^a-SKix/a  wo-w             -  236 
OLD-FASHIONED  ROSES  .     .        ,.    A  fraiaouuH*  v.woT-x^S 

OLD  GRANNY  DUSK 166 

OLD  HAYMOW,  THE    .         .     g-j^I  -*>  SMA^  SHT     •  82 

OLD  HOME  BY  THE  MILL,  THE     .    ,HT  ,*ot>M  airr     •  71 

OLD  HOME-FOLKS,  THE      .         .        ..         .Y.AIM.I  v  •  252 

OLD  INDIANY .•    MI^  a     •  264 

OLD  JOHN  CLEVENGER  ON  BUCKEYES    .     o  ^JiorB  g1     •  2^ 

OLD  JOHN  HENRY      ..        .        .        .       ..  Y«^/i      •  2*5 

OLD  MAN  AND  JIM,  THE     .         .         .     aM>T-K*H     •  2^ 

OLD  MAN  WHISKERY-\VHEE-KUM-\VHEEZE      3HT      .  243 

OLD  MAN'S  MEMORY,  AN    .         .         .A  ?>iiVA«c[     •  ^5 

OLD  MAN'S  NURSERY  RHYME            .         .         .      "^H  80 

OLD  OCTOBER       ....       .WIT    ^^T-  Y     •  50 

OLD  PLAYED-OUT  SONG,  A         ;<HT  ,Y  uj>.Y  MJ.J     •  17 

OLD  SWIMMIN'-HOLE,  THE          .         .         <A  >Y^#:/.^  v?4 

OLD  TRAMP,  THE        .         .       «tvO  *I  8YAa-V,i:.»!     .  93 

OLD  WINTERS  ON  THE  FARM      .         .         .         ,a..,     .  126 
ON  ANY    ORDENARY    MAN    IN    A    HIGH    STATE    OF 

LAUGHTURE  AND  DELIGHT       .         .         .         J/K;     .  29 

ON  THE  BANKS  o'  DEER  CRICK    .         ...  YTO?OJ     •  HO 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  LITTLE  MAHALA  ASHCRAFT     .         .  11 

OUR  BETSY          ....        'V->!7A  8*2:i*£o1     .  164 

OUR  HIRED  GIRL      ""?" 109 

OUR  OLD  FRIEND  NEVERFAIL     j}/  >  /l.z3if/,Yi.  <M  z     •  262 

OUR  QUEER  OLD  WORLD     ..        ..         .      a«-jAiD  YTIK  155 

^M       .      '-  .  .  .         JJOAff    iiJAT    HiV^^ 

582 


INDEX  OF  TITLES 

PAP'S  OLD  SAYIN'       .         .         .       a«u->wKMeD  • 

PARENT  REPRIMANDED,  A     .         .         .        3M'»H-T/  • 

PENALTY  OF  GENIUS,  THE  .         .         .     !HT  taji»H3  • 

PEN-PICTUR'  OF  A  CERT'IN  FRIWOLUS  OLD  MAN,  A  . 

PERVERSITY  .        ^HT  ^1£  03  a  /-.U  aJD*iU  ttui  • 

PET  COON,  THE  ....       a«T  ,«HH  - 

POEMS  HERE  AT  HOME,  THE        .         .      /_•  .y/.Q  a'  • 


NUMBER 

•  34 

•  246 

•  233 

25 
193 
94 


"PREACHER'S  BOY,  THE"     .     %«aTKf7/ 
PRIOR  TO  Miss  BELLE'S  APPEARANCE    . 
PROSPECTIVE  GLIMPSE,  A 

RABBIT         . 

RAGGEDY  MAN,  THE    .         .         .         / 
RAGGEDY  MAN  ON  CHILDREN,  THE     '. 
RAMBO-TREE,  THE       .         .       «««> 
REGARDIN'  TERRY-HUT         .         .         . 
RHYMES  OF  IRONQUILL,  THE        .        '. 
RIGHT  HERE  AT  HOME        '„      F>R^3 
"RINGWORM  FRANK"   .     ?  .^^g?81?  : 
RIVALS  ;  OR  THE  SHOWMAN'S  RUSE,  THE 
ROMANCIN'          .        .        .     *V  aTA.J 
ROSSVILLE  LECTUR'  COURSE,  THE     |  ^ 
RuBXivXT  OF  Doc  SIFERS  '  l.*  M^u  *''  .  'u 
RUNAWAY  BOY,  THE  .      J£*  y^-H: 


ai«t-     •      96 

.  g]          100 

92 


>     180 
*          104 
183 


. 
'*™'«"J 


j     22S 


e3H0^K> 


r. 


.     156 
.     119 
138 


. 

81 


a;lCl     . 
-I  a] 


SCHOOLBOY'S  FAVORITE,  THE 

SCOTTY 

SESSION  WITH  UNCLE  SIDNEY,  A 
SHE  "DISPLAINS"  IT   .         . 
SISTER  JONES'S  CONFESSION 
SMITTEN  PURIST,  THE        . 
SOME  CHRISTMAS  YOUNGSTERS     . 


130 


250 


TluQ  .g'xoaiii     .  147 

YHTSTJOD  .or/I       -  216 

..    3HX  ,MOOJ.     -  237 

3^1  T  .aoQ^K^     .  101 
.        ..    **3^   -wia,-120 

-Y  157 

.  174 


SOME  SCATTERING  REMARKS  OF  BUB'S 


129 


INDEX   OF   TITLES 

NUMBER 

SOMEP'N  COMMON-LIKE  .  "'*  "'  .  'viYAci  a.  .  59 
SPIRITS  AT  HOME  .  .  *  '  A  .na<iKAMiM'i:-.5J  .  173 
SPOILED  CHILD,  THE  .  .  >  *"*T  -.aui^aO  ;i<>  .  210 
SQUIRE  HAWKINS'S  STORY  .  *"%  m'TysD  .4  10  YJI  .  208 
SQUIRT-GUN  UNCLE  MAKED  ME,  THE  .  . : ;  .  78 
STEPMOTHER,  THE  ....  .61 

SUMMER'S  DAY,  A  .  .  3i'T  $w  *.  3#?.H  suaofc 
SUMMER-TIME  AND  WINTER-TIME  "~wT  ,1408  ft.'na.h  .  149 
SYMPTOMS  .  •.  3'J»;AHAa»j4A  ?»-3Jja3  «i2iJ^  .  188 

S£:  A    ^HLOjH  aviT03^3O^I 

TALE  OF  THE  AIRLY  DAYS,  A 19 

THAT-AIR  YOUNG-UN           .         .         *        T   •    *V      '  ^ 

THEM  FLOWERS            .     .^p-     '%««,- UH^  -"-'o'-^/M      '  ^^ 

"THEM  OLD  CHEERY  WORDS"     7  '           3HT   33fl'     '  16° 

THINKIN'  BACK          .        .         .        '^H-yHJiaT  'i     '  182 

THIS  MAN  JONES        .         .        .,T    .  T  ,r' ' .      T  .         •  65 
THOMAS  THE  PRETENDER     .         .        £MOH  T/  -«ii] 
THOUGHTS  FER  THE  DISCURAGED  FARMER    .     3  .         v.,Ta* 

THOUGHTS  ON  A  PORE  JOKE      .«...,..•  .  1To«, v       •  ^6 

THOUGHTS  ON  THE  LATE  WAR 201 

THREE  JOLLY  HUNTERS,  THE    r  v-'i'O  '»LJT'              '  ^^ 

To  MY  OLD  FRIEND,  WILLIAM  LEACH  MAN       r  .         .  13 

To— "THE  J.  W.  R.  LITERARY  CLUB"        '^'ycO*  v      '  263 

To  "UNCLE  REMUS"  .         .         .       ".    "*:  /  '  "r  '     .  152 

TOM  JOHNSON'S  QUIT         .       sjrT  ,3ri.                      .  70 

TOWN  AND  COUNTRY 30 

TOY-BALLOON,  THE     .         .      ^arS.^j^JJ  nrjvr     .  165 

TOY  PENNY-DOG,  THE        .        ..        ..  T!  V/.iA^a:     .  143 

"TRADIN'  JOE"     .         .         .         Kois^dKuO'  ?/aa,no     .  206 

TRAIN-MISSER,  THE  .  .  .  3."'T  ,T?.I  .  48 
TREE-TOAD,  THE  .  .  laayao'/iuoY  a/-.MT2j«O.ak63 

TRULY  MARVELOUS,  THE  JH  !;!  ^HA^aSl  ^i>              .  209 
584 


INDEX   OP  TITLES 

NUMBER 

TWINS,  THE 

Two  SONNETS  TO  THE  JUNE-BUG         ....     260 

UNCLE  MART'S  POEM 256 

UNCLE  SIDNEY .         .       72 

UNCLE  SIDNEY'S  LOGIC 146 

UNCLE  WILLIAM'S  PICTURE          .  .     207 

UP  AND  DOWN  OLD  BRANDYWINE  .  .  .  .135 
Us  FARMERS  IN  THE  COUNTRY  . 

WAITIN'  PER  THE  CAT  TO  DIE      .  .      73 

WANT  TO  BE  WHUR  MOTHER  Is  .62 

WAY  IT  Wuz,  THE 69 

WET-WEATHER  TALK  .... 

WHAT  CHRIS'MAS  FETCHED  THE  WIGGINSES  .  .  125 
WHAT  LITTLE  SAUL  GOT,  CHRISTMAS  .  .  .  186 
WHAT  SMITH  KNEW  ABOUT  FARMING  .  .  .  259 
WHATEVER  THE  WEATHER  MAY  BE  .  .  .68 

WHEN  LIDE  MARRIED  HIM 137 

WHEN  OUR  BABY  DIED 77 

WHEN  THE  FROST  Is  ON  THE  PUNKTN  ...  10 
WHEN  THE  GREEN  GITS  BACK  IN  THE  TREES  .  .  66 
WHEN  THE  HEARSE  COMES  BACK  ....  42 
WHEN  THE  WORLD  BU'STS  THROUGH  .  .  .91 

WHEN  WE  FIRST  PLAYED  "SHOW"  ....  224 
WHO  SANTY  CLAUS  Wuz  ......  64 

WORTERMELON    TlME 9 

WRITIN'  BACK  TO  THE  HOME-FOLKS  ....  132 
YOUTHFUL  PATRIOT,  THE .139 


585 


3I'JV.'J 

-i   r-i-/-'  V 


DIOoJ 


or  TA     3HT  Ji;ii  'KITEA. 

UUV/   33   OT  TvTA 


'WOII  5" 


Tltt?,    TATlV/ 


Y8'.8  srjO 

T80JITI  3HT 
'/:  I^MO  3ITT 


3MlT    ^O. 

3HT  OT  i?3 


anT  .TOIHTA*! 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES 


i  'iO  X:i(..iKJ. 


INDEX   OF  FIRST   LINES 

Lines  thus  designated  *  are  not  the  first  lines  of  individual 
poems  but  of  parts  of  longer  poems 

PAGE 

A  Child-World,  yet  a  wondrous  world  no  less    .         .  505 

A  little  boy  once  played  so  loud     -rtl^J  bw  i.B9%  ^     .  431 

A  man  by  the  name  of  Bolus  —  (all  'at  we'll  ever  know  420 

A'  old  Tramp  slep'  in  our  stable  wunst  •'>  \u  :tet»d  I:     .  170 

A  passet  o'  boys  last  night      t»yjoi{  -juo  uj  ormp  :     .  135 

A  thing  'at's  'bout  as  tryin'  as  a  healthy  man  kin  meet  81 

Abe  Martin  !  —  dad-burn  his  old  picture  -J  Q*  u'^d  '"-•     .  570 

After  a  thoughtful,  almost  painful  pause     .     iwp*       .  144 

All  'at  I  ever  want  to  be     .     o^Iliv^oa  jfi  97^,1     .  298 

All  my  feelin's  in  the  Spring      .....  320 

Allus  when  our  Pa  he's  away     .     ~^l  J^SSuJ  o&       .  470 

Armazindy;—  fambily  name        ^uorf.tiro  qt  **mv>  .     .  241 

As  fair  as  summer  just  begun  Vfy!  to^fm^  .  vll'tfl  •     .  572 

As  it's  give'  me  to  perceive         .     fi/3.iulw.£  ai  gs'"     .  59 

At  Billy  Miller's  Circus-Show     .....  317 

Awf'lest  boy  in  this-here  town    .     rf  TpQoIr^^tl*     .  427 
18  f                                .                           .                  "loo*  tb*H" 

*Babe  she's  so  always     --^  .vii^-S^y?  <n\£q  &  *&\     .  326 

Bleak  January  !     Cold  as  fate     .     vtz^id  Jf&i&B       .  328 

Bud,  come  here  to  your  uncle  a  spell  .     ^>i^  tan^p:>      .  73 


"Cassander  !  O  Cassander  !"  —  her  mother's  voice  seems 

cle'r         .          .          .      .  ":  '-'fiavi  ^4  J*n  uo^  L.     .  285 

'Cause  Herbert  Graham's  a'  only  child    'HIiW  bi-uo     .  409 

Childern—  take  'em  as  they  run   .     -^  vqn^[  ^y1^jM     .  345 

Come  listen,  good  people,  while  a  story  I  do  tell         .  51 

"Coon-dog  Wess"  —  he  allus  went     orj  X'!y  P*  ^••"•P'S"     .  34 

3cf  oi  bn^l'q  t'nob  -*$n  .t'ftis  I 

Dawn,  noon  and  dewfall  !     Bluebird  and  robin    .          .  211 

Dogs,  I  contend,  is  jes'  about     .     \VnuiHT  '^^y*^     .  332 

589 


INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES 

PAGE 

Elsie  Mingus  lisps,  she  does     !  1).76.*  j»»sns'g»b  *";'*  ^'^i.  311 

r  cq  to  Inrt  RtflfM-i 

Fer  any  boy  'at's  little  as  me    ikuov/  «G  13'Cvbho.W      .  270 

Fer  forty  year  and  better  you  have  been  a  friend  to  me  22 

Fire!   Fire!   Ring  and  ring      -^ufoH  to  amen  •>;('<  •/•     •  321 

First  and  best  of  earthly  joys     .      r0.m  'qt??.  qi«;ji     .  343 

First  she  come  to  our  house      j^I-gi'n  .isj;;I  avoJ  ••>       •  H9 

First  the  teacher  called  the  roll      ni  ?s>  JwoJ'  siJr.'     -  219 

Folks  has  be'n  to  town,  and  Sahry  ••sT.rj. '-!.»*!>-- '•-!  »•;!}•     .  83 

Folks  in  town,  I  reckon,  thinks       :>fi^R  ,in4ti!v;xj<i      •  365 

Folks  up  here  at  Rossville  got  up  a  Lectur'  Course     .  63 

Giunts  is  the  biggest  mens  they  air     .     cflo,Mo  w     •  409 

Granny's  come  to  our  house        ->niBa  .vfrdri^}- -->\-{)     •  91 

Guess  'at  Billy  hain't  got  back.ugod  lac/t  T^»nrrrw»  :,'     •  238 

Guiney-pigs  is  awful  cute  .        'v/ko-iiK?  ot.yiir  '»/i      •  153 

Had  a  harelip — Joney  had      iv/«t  ^Tjif-^iif*  «t  -;*>il      •  89 

"Had,  too!" 181 

He  was  jes*  a  plain,  ever'-day,  all-round  kind  of  jour.  97 

He's  jes'  a  great,  big,  awk'ard,  hulkin'         .     n&in     .  258 

Ho!  it's  come,  kids,  come        sbrro  twov:  oj  ^'T^il -;i     •  436 

Ho !  the  old  Snow-Man 552 

Home-folks  !— Well,  that-air  name  to  me    .     )  ».T>!     .  266 

"How  did  you  rest,  last  night?"         ....  253 

"How  would  Willie  like  to  go     .      m^rnnQ  ;hMrit'-.>]     •  154 

Howdy,  Mister  Hop-Toad !   Glad  to  see  you  out        .  267 

I  ain't  a-goin*  to  cry  no  more,  no  more  -"«>:?y/.y.<.     .  310 

I  ain't,  ner  don't  p'tend  to  be     .                           .         .  1 

I  believe  all  childern's  good      f[.  M! -Jv/':f>.brTfi  a«..n     .  294 

I'be'n  a-kindo'  "musin',"  as  the  feller  says,  and  I'm    .  11.5 

590 


INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES 

PAGE 

T  be'n  down  to  the  Capital  at  Washington,  D.  C.  .  368 

I  buried  my  first  womern  .  f  ^--orn.3^  QJ  vt^v  .  564 

I  got  no  patience  with  blues  at  all  (>krow  £nr>ri"  -tfii  .  65 

F  got  to  face  Mother  to-day,  fer  a  fact  ?io,£  -aojo?-  .  339 
I  got  to  thinkin'  of  her — both  her  parunts  dead  and 

gone  uia,  {fntettf  blo.^rft  rtf  jbsd  }irg  r>?  bt>£>$  viri§i.  7 

I  hain't  no  hand  at  tellin'  tales  .  srwrfi  iwtrorjm  .  398 

I  have  jest  about  decided  .  fil  .lo  ^t  1  ^Nrf  e  .  232 

I  kin  hump  my  back  and  take  the  rain  '  ^sn'rAni^  .  .  322 
I  like  fun — and  I  like  jokes  irejn  iio.w/rog  *  .  .57 

I  rickollect  the  little  tad,  back,  years  and  years  ago  .  172 

I  s'pose  it  takes  a  feller  'at's  be'n  .  t  -aknoHiJts  .  342 

I  tell  you  what  I'd  ruther  do  -.  t^M  -ffi  jiwoh.13  .  30 

I  thought  the  deacon  liked  me,  yit  .  .  .  .  215 
"I  was  born  in  Indiany,"  says  a  stranger,  lank  and 

slim  .  .  > rf sug'f t —smAn  Jtovt  *i rf  fe'teofl  •  jln  .  94 

I  was  for  Union — you,  ag'in*  it  frae  !  .  .  374 
If  you  don't  know  Doc  Sifers  I'll  jes*  argy,  here  and 

now fiittv  .  fo&-'  .  481 

I'm  a-feelin'  ruther  sad  ^fmvvrmbjg!  3?ortTJ  *B'  «  .  276 

I'm  bin  a-visitun  'bout  a  week  .  cjj)il  jum'^nr  .  423 

I'm  gittin'  old — I  know  .  ;c  yuo  .  //.  ?£rrti?i-tf  .  346 

I'm  not  a-workin'  now  .  ^i  t'  .  -'iV'-rr  .  .  351 

I'm  one  o'  these  cur'ous  kind  o'  chaps  <n.I  J'ru^h  .  392 

I'm  on'y  thist  a'  idiot  .  nja-:  .  .  fo'h  »  .  293 

I'm  thist  a  little  cripple  boy,  an*  never  goin'  to  grow  .  141 

I'm  twins,  I  guess,  'cause  my  Ma  say  .  \~t\s\  .  457 

In  spring,  when  the  green  gits  back  in  the  trees  .  127 

In  the  golden  noon-shine  .  f  30700  *.'•>[ rm A  1  .  .  273 

In  the  jolly  winters  .  :firf  2f»v^vrn  bhov.'.srlt  n\  ?  .  150 

Iry  an'  Billy  an'  Jo  }  .-<>•*  If,-,  iri  lys-v*  'n/3  .tovt  .  216 

It  hain't  no  use  to  grumble  and  complane  .  '.n  .  49 

59  ^ 


INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES 

PAGE 

It  was  a  Jolly  Miller  lived  on  the  River  Dee       .         .  182 

It's  a  irrystery  to  see  me  —  a  man  o'  fifty-four     .         .  206 

It's  a  purty  hard  world  you  find,  my  child      :Htxq       .  288 
It's  lonesome  —  sorto'  lonesome,  —  it's  a  Sund'y-day,  to 

me        b&b1  Rininr,q  i-xL  iftotl  —  T>ri  }o  VrA«»A\       .  61 

It's  mighty  good  to  git  back  to  the  old  town,  shore     .  375 

It's  the  curiousest  thing  in  creation     .     tf;  iut£f}.on  1V  32 

I've  allus  held—  till  jest  of  late        jhfoob  JWOOR  <*>[  •>  289 

I've  be'n  thinkin'  back,  of  late        >n&  >hs<l  vrrr  qrmrrf.  343 

I've  thought  a  power  on  men  and  things     .    nf;~»  ni     .  212 


Janey  Pettibone's  the  best  a'te*  lofbt  JK  *9-.-!fir..ti  .  169 
Jap  Miller  down  at  Martinsville's  the  blamedest  feller 

yit           .         ...    }?--/.  ,f>m  te'Jil  -.noor^b  3fh  it     .  203 

Jes*  a  little  bit  o'  feller—  I  remember  still          r«oc!     .  123 

Jest  Frank  Reed's  his  real  name  —  though             .         .  261 

Jest  rain  and  snow!  and  rain  again     .     --no'rnTJ.  if     .  59 
bffR-'rt'Sii  ,V£-tx  *z'j[  ll'l  2i3ti8  ooCI  won>!  J'nob  rroy  It 

Las'  Juty  —  and,  I  persume           .  .....  133 

Las'  time  'at  Uncle  Sidney  come  {>.K«  narfjrn  '/jilo  .  167 

*Lrtj^  Chris'mus,  little  Benny  .  c  jujotf  wisji-iy-*  .  325 

Last  Christmas  was  a  j^ear  ago  v/en>I  1.  bu.).  'n'tjji.  377 

Last  Thanksgivin'-dinner  we  .  vt>n  'fri.ri.  ,-//,-,.;  jr^  458 

Lawzy!  don't  I  rickollect  N?j>f  ttiQ*i\  •«:'.->.  'or?  t.'o  .  139 

'Lish,  you  rickollect  that-air  .  joibl  .T;:  ?r>U!j  .  422 

Little  Cousin  Jasper,  he  'a'rrK  ,xo<?  al(jqfi343lJ'iiI.£  :  .  411 

"Little  Haly  !  Little  Haly  !"  cheeps  the  robin  in  the  tree  19 

Little  Mandy  and  her  Ma  .  rg.nwv  ''ocfT.ri  :>:i-/4  .^  .  160 

Little  Orphant  Annie's  come  to  our  house  to  stay  .  Ill 

'LI  where  in  the  world  my  eyes  has  bin  'vV<;v/  {i'lo'i  y  93 
Look  so  neat  an'  sweet  in  all  yer  frills  an'  fancy 

pleatin'             ^hfifqoVo'*  .hm;  tf.hw&s  ot.'wi  on  1?(i-  178 


INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES 

PAGE 

Ma  put  my  Penny-Dog    !j<j>^*j&  blwcxD  I.  zwotoofc  a     •  265 

Max  an'  Jim        .         .       !^r*i  ^  t*g©<f  ribh  £  bixl  t<     .  152 

Me  an'  Bert  an'  Minnie-Belle     .     9ffj  j0  a4tjj  js  am     •  4^5 

'Mongst  the  Hills  o'  Somerset     .     ri-Vununiw »  bio      •  414 

Most  ontimely  old  man  yit          .         .         .         q9^     .  54 

Mostly,  folks  is  law-abidin'    s  rficntl  rftefbir  Ifirf*  u<     •  ^7 

My  dear  old  friends— It  jes'  beats  all    ,  9^j|[  }«,  j,     .  250 
My  fiddle? — Well,  I  kindo'  keep  her  handy,  don't  you 

know      ....      Jaeil  9ffe  gf  amis  ebr     •  25 

"My  grandfather  Squeers,"  said  The  Raggedy  Man     .  156 

My  mother  she's  so  good  to  me        3*-  9^11*03'  ,^nc     •  188 

My  old  Uncle  Sidney  he  says  it's  a  sign     .     r9Q  ;     .  350 

"Mylo  Jones's  wife"  was  all     .     .rft.Vabfint  '^iVmfo'  ^0 

:tfia"'t>J'  ffDUffr  'bfirf  i»vdrt  ius/ti  MO 

Never  talk  back !  sich  things  is  repperhensible     .         .  319 

Nobody  on  the  old  farm  here  but  Mother,  me  and  John  196 

Noey  Bixler  ketched  him,  an'  fetched  him  in  to  me     .  171 

Noon-time  and  June-time,  down  around  the  river        .  114 

Nothin'  to  say,  my  daughter!     Nothin'  at  all  to  say  362 

Now,  Tudens,  you  sit  on  this  knee — and  'scuse            .  443 

O  Big  Old  Tree  so  tall  an'  fine        «ifM0  '.intol*  -j     •  437 
*O  here's  a  little  rhyme  for  the  Spring-  or  Summer 
time        .         .      '  ••.yBb-tonliBcfig'ii  «5tiw.thiiO.btj     .  448 
O  it's  good  to  ketch  a  relative  'at's  richer  and  don't 

run si$»!  >U'J     .         .  566 

O,  it's  many's  the  scenes  which  is  dear  to  my  mind       .  29 

O  The  Raggedy  Man  !     He  works  f  er  Pa      9rf  j;     .  185 

O  there  were  three  jolly  hunters    :!oui?.£}-i>[u  duo  bjsrf  263 

O,  Thou  that  doth  all  things  devise     .     3j  ^a  ?a[\B  ^  12 

O  what  did  the  little  boy  do     r,  ,JffaivlngJ*£q  gjrf  j,     .  262 

"O,  what  is  Life  at  last,"  says  you     .     t  ji^  j'n»jb  £ih;l  557 

593 


INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES 


PAGE 


Of  all  the  doctors  I  could  cite  you  to  in  this-'ere  town  128 

Oh,  if  we  had  a  rich  boss    .         .         .         .        rsii]   '  .  352 

Oh!  tell  me  a  tale  of  the  airly  days     .     M'.Yrs  int)(     .  39 
Oh !  the  old  swimmin'-hole !  whare  the  crick  so  still 

and  deep         .         .         .         .Jiv  n^rn  bio  '(lam'too  i?.cd£ 

Oh  !  Thou  that  veileth  from  all  eyes        ffil.-gi-edlo:     .  57 

Oh  !  what  ef  little  childerns  all        Jlv-fcbrw-ri  hio      .  338 

Old  Bob  White's  a  funny  bird        mrf  I  jteV/V^     .  442 

Old  friends  allus  is  the  best 418 

Old  Granny  Dusk,  when  the  sun  goes  down       .         .316 

Old  Indiany, 'course  we  know     .     >OQQ  oa  ^'srfe  .131     .  567 

Old  John  Clevenger  lets  on       £C*  •jA.v-jiz/u^  olarrlJ     .  42 

Old  John's  jes'  made  o'  the  commonest  stuff  ?.'atm>     .  416 

Old  man  never  had  much  to  say        ....  371 

Old  Man  Whiskery- Whee-Kum- Wheeze     .     ^L;l<     .  456 

Old  October's  purt' nigh  gone     .     inv«,i  I»Jo  •?:!*;-:.•.     .  95 

Old  wortermelon  time  is  a-comin'  round  again             .  14 

On  old  Brandywine — about      oU  .sfnij-anuj.  b.iaar     .  86 

On  'Scursion-days — an*  Shows — an'  Fairs         £-.03     .  340 

On  the  banks  o'  Deer  Crick  !  There's  the  place  f  er  me  195 

One  time,  when  we'z  at  Aunty's  house         .         .         .  183 

One's  the  pictur'  of  his  Pa     .ft.'nc  fk*  (.?..wT.b\     .  233 

Our  hired  girl,  she's  'Lizabuth  Ann     .      ;  Q|;J     .         .  192 

Our  Hired  Girl,  when  it's  bakin'-day           .         .         .  345 

Owned  a  pair  o'  skates  onc't. — Traded     jt»y  ot  bo<vg  .  220 

Pa  he  bringed  me  here  to  stay        £^in?o?  artf  gVnfirrr.  440 

Pa  wunst  he  scold'  an'  says  to  me     .      ',  vlr^^A  iw  269 

Pap  had  one  old-fashioned  sayin'    .UiH  wufi  y\wt      .  66 

Pap  he  allus  ust  to  say        .         .         .       iftob  ifi/ft      .  294 

Pap's  got  his  pattent-right,  and  rich  as  all  creation     .  75 

Parunts  don't  git  toys  an'  things     rg/;I  IE  tjHT  4!  }     .  327 

594 


INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES 

PAGE 

Parunts  knows  lots  more  than  us    itrto  iua}o  giH§     .  432 

Picnics  is  fun  'at's  purty  hard  to  beat       #iaib  tedinhu]  449 

Pore-folks  lives  at  Lonsomeville    :bns»iqg  £  ?.i  ad  geoi  262 

'Ras  Wilson,  I  respect  you,  'cause    o  jujrn-^boM.  ah    .  27 

Right  here  at  home,  boys,  in  old  Hoosierdom     .         .  214 

Said  The  Raggedy  Man,  on  a  hot  afternoon   -lyruifc     .  175 

Say  good-by  er  howdy-do      jirO  i>n£  tf     .     -doll       .  318 

Scotty's  dead. — Of  course  he  is         3(U  s'v/orrmiH  I.   .  417 

" 'Scur'ous-like,"  said  the  tree-toad     .     &  ?l^d  itfnyoU  yrl'^ 

Seems  like  a  feller'd  ort  'o  jes'  to-day      bar//  i^rni     .  213 

Sence  I  tuk  holt  o'  Gibbses'  Churn     .         .       e^T     .  105 
Sence  little  Wesley  went,  the  place  seems  all  so  strange 

and  still        .%mnvl  bas.^rftoM  hns  .lar'.rsH.  gj;     .  363 

Settin'  round  the  stove,  last  night  -^touq  w/i  i'ae£v>  .  84 

Sing,  oh,  rarest  of  roundelays     .     instil  W*0£.ni  «bk     .  359 

Some  peoples  thinks  they  ain't  no  Fairies  now            .  539 
Some  sings  of  the  lilly,  and  daisy,  and  rose    3  £  auw.  varff 

Somep'n  'at's  common-like,  and  good      >\  Io  bnlA       .  118 

Sometimes  I  think  'at  Parunts  does         s:xibint*iq       .  458 

Sometimes  my  Conscience  says,  says  he     .     nitbo      .  571 

Sometimes,  when  I  bin  bad      ;d  ymuli  blO  &4T"     .  139 

Such  was  the  Child-World  of  the  long-ago         oa        .  510 

Take  a  feller  'at's  sick  and  laid  up  on  the  shelf             .  218 

"Talkin'  'bout  yer  bees,"  says  Ike    f  Viiv;filq  sulk  z\v  384 

Talkin'  o'  poetry — There're  few  men  yit     .     [[js.tt     .  557 

Tell  you  a  story — an'  it's  a  fac'           ....  204 

Tell  you  what  I  like  the  best     .     i  oJ  sir  eni£d!  91     •  77 

That-air  young-un  ust  to  set  ,jwx>b  x«w*  ifi*  av£i  3d  a;  147 

The  Boy  lives  on  our  Farm,  he's  not      »fUr  ,v5hnbi£ .  190 

595 


INDEX   OF  FIRST   LINES 

PAGE 

The  delights  of  our  childhood  is  soon  passed  away  .  68 
The  funniest  thing  in  the  world,  I  know  .  rni^-g  .  163 
The  hoss  he  is  a  splendud  beast  ;mvl  \&*vyi if. k~A  .  46 
The  Jaybird  he's  my  favorite  .....  453 
The  Little  Mock-man  on  the  Stairs  .  qzy\  I  ,HOJ>.  .  272 
The  little  tiny  kickshaw  that  Mither  sent  tae  me  .  118 
The  moon  in  the  sky  is  a  custard  pie  ....  357 
The  Muskingum  Valley — How  longin'  the  gaze  .  252 
The  Old  Bob-white,  and  Chipbird  .  ;H.i.>  vJ-!  .  264 
The  Old  Haymow's  the  place  to  play  lO-  -.]>i'3b  .  152 
The  Poems  here  at  Home! — Who'll  write  'em  down  361 
The  summer  winds  is  sniffin'  round  the  bloomin'  lo 
cus'  trees  .  .  mi'J .  Vj^ddi*.)  V>.Hon  atui  I.  8 
The  Summer's  put  the  idy  in  .  Jtv^-ir  *r-j\t*jff  &li  .  10 
There  was  Father,  and  Mother,  and  Emmy,  and  Jane  323 
There  wasn't  two  purtier  farms  in  the  stater  bam  .  558 
There's  old  man  Willards ;  an'  his  wife  \Q  Izi'ist  .  99 
They  ain't  no  style  about  'em  .  v;fj  ?.-Anull  zolqo  .  74 
They  wuz  a  Big  Day  wunst  in  town  .  tujt  :;o  r/nr  .  314 
They's  a  kind  o'  feel  in  the  air,  to  me  arfjro  V^'  .  283 
They's  a  prejudice  allus  'twixt  country  and  town  .  60 
They's  nothin'  in  the  name  to  strike  .  io3  xrn.?->  •  121 
This  is  'The  Old  Home  by  the  Mill"— fei  we  still 

call  it  so         .     e-anpl  vii  lo.bno7/r-b!LfD  •><!*  2     .  137 

This  man  Jones  was  what  you'd  call  ....  124 

Thweet  Poethy!  let  me  lithp  forthwith-  alls'  isJb'     .  292 

Tommy's  alluz  playin*  jokes     V£%  '\^^J  i^v  jirfd'  '; .  432 

Tomps  'ud  allus  haf  to  say     :  ^raio/fT— y/i3r>oq  'o  '.  202 

'W^  ha  •.  C>IK  old-fa  .! .<•  •-.        1Piil;  £  fe'li  'ii£— viola  £  uo{  Ii»T 

*Uncle  he  learns  us  to  rhyme  an*  write  -IH  J  t£flvv       .  448 

*Uncle  he  says  'at  'way  down  in  the  sea     .     «W»H      •  447 

Uncle  Sidney,  when  he  was  here    '•!  .;ino  ao  H-J  ill  'io^  14^ 

596 

\ 


INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES 

PAGE 

*Uncle  Sidney's  vurry  proud  ^-iqowS  sb-bid  sitti,  .  448 

Uncle  William,  last  July  .  noiioM  guIIoT  »lw  .  396 

Up  and  down  old  Brandywine  .  IB  &M  ^m  "ii£.  si  .  254 

*Us  childern's  all  so  lonesome  .  ..heiib.xd^fi.  iu  .  312 

Us  farmers  in  the  country,  as  the  seasons  go  and  come  71 

Us-folks  is  purty  pore — but  Ma  .  ..  >borfe  Dffu  450 

Us  parents  mostly  thinks  our  own's  .  ?nbt2  slonl  .  349 
Q£*>  .  .  IbJ  ^anbici  9bn!I  -ussri  w  iwrfW 
"Want  to  be  whur  mother  is!  Want  to  be  whur 

mother  is!"  .  .  .  >miMoniinu2. 73  ,ami.  .  120 

Wasn't  it  a  funny  dream ! — perfectly  bewild'rin'  .  425 

Wasn't  it  a  good  time  tl.xoiMsqqsq  Tuo.b^oot  .  428 
We  got  it  up  a-purpose,  jes'  fer  little  Johnts,  you 

know  .....  9?/rnnillI  m  teaW  x*w'  •  163 

We  got  up  a  Christmas-doin's  .  nirj^ft-s^n'jw.  3^  .  234 

We  love  your  dear  old  face  and  voice  ^uw  ->intt  *  .  283 
Well,  it's  enough  to  turn  his  head  to  have  a  feller's 

name      .........  267 

What  is  it  in  old  fiddle-chunes  'at  makes  me  ketch  my 

breath  ....  wornf  I.  ,3:>oI!o>bH  a;  .  274 

What  makes  you  come  here  fer,  Mister  .  onj  9  .  179 

"Whatever  the  weather  may  be,"  says  he  .  £od  .  131 

When  Autumn  shakes  the  rambo-tree  isia  bn&  rf:  .  430 

When  Bess  gave  her  dollies  a  Tea,  said  she  .>m.  3>  .  459 

When  Dicky  was  sick  ,\~v  .'oJfiwo-j  .arf*  ru  aiodrt?  .  433 

When  ever'thing's  a-goin'  like  she's  got-a-goin'  now  356 

When  frost's  all  on  our  winder,  an'  the  snows  .  .  450 

When  I  was  ist  a  Brownie — a  weenty-teenty  Brownie  413 

"When  it's  got  to  be," — like  I  always  say  .  .  .  354 

When  it's  night,  and  no  light,  too  ....  144 

When  Lide  married  him — w'y,  she  had  to  jes'  clee-fy  259 
When  Little  Claude  was  naughty  wunst  .  .  .172 

597 


INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES 

PAGE 

When  Little  Dickie  Swope's  a  man  .    <7  f\?ni         .175 

When  little  Tollus  Morton  he's     ;!«!  t^L  .rmBtllrV/  .  438 

When  Me  an'  my  Ma  an'  Pa  went  to  the  Fair     .         .  383 

When  our  baby  died  .  . 'jrnoeonol.o?.  Kg  f.'uishlr .  145 
When  the  frost  is  on  the  punkin'  and  the  fodder's 

in  the  shock  .         .        ^M  -ttifi -9'toq  ^intiq  ei  e?&&-'17 

When  Uncle  Sidney  he  comes  here  .  vjjdorn  ^Jn:>  .  410 
When  we  hear  Uncle  Sidney  tell  .  .  .  .439 

Where's  a  boy  a-goin'        Ui   ia;toora  ttiAvr  ocf.  oj     .  168 

Winter-time,  er  Summer-time     .         .        ..  ''!  *t.  11     .  221 

Wunst  I  sassed  my  Pa,  an'  he  .     rEo.ib  Nrfjnij}  £  Jr    .  191 

Wimst  I  tooked  our  pepper-box  lid     .     '    hoo^  £  3     .  237 

Wunst  upon  a  time  wunst      5^  ,9*OirM;q-£  <I»J.  it     .  424 

Wunst,  'way  West  in  Illinoise  .....  453 

Wunst  we  went  a-fishin' — Me     .     tBtp.te'nti'3  s  /?u     .  189 

W'y,  one  time  wuz  a  little-ween ty  dirl  u;:xL>  luvi  ^'••«  534 

W'y,  wunst  they  wuz  a  Little  Boy  went  out:ort2  g     .  547 

You  better  not  fool  with  a  Bumblebee  ri  Mo  rd  Jt  .  167 

You-folks  rickollect,  I  know  .  .  .  ..  » :  .  460 

You  have  more'n  likely  noticed  90103  ,voy  ?3>fr  .  358 
You  kin  boast  about  yer  cities,  and  their  stiddy 

growth  and  size  jpi}-otfm£T  .srft  z'rA&\z  nrnaJti/  .  110 

You  make  me  jes'  a  little  nervouser  ri  i?7£y  i;go^  .  563 
Your  neghbors  in  the  country,  whare  you  come  from, 

hain't  f ergot       «2...f»SJ«.  ^fUV.ros-s  >:'^!rir{Je.i9v3  .  69 


598 


RETURN  TO:      CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 
198  Main  Stacks 


LOAN  PERIOD     1 
Home  Use 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS. 

Renewals  and  Recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  the  due  date. 
Books  may  be  renewed  by  calling  642-3405. 


DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW. 

AUG  2  0  201 

3 

FORM  NO.  DD6                        UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
50M    5-03                                                 Berkeley,  California  94720-6000 

3- 


^THe^oosi 


PR 


Y    11 


8    193i 


FEB  23   193 


r  book,ccanp 


hoo 


784916 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


